


TEDDY BEAR TALES 4: The Sound of Angel's Wings

by roryheadmav



Series: THE TEDDY BEAR TALES [4]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angels, Highlander - Freeform, M/M, Religion, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-12-24
Updated: 2000-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 54,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryheadmav/pseuds/roryheadmav
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a terrible tragedy, Methos is having difficulty coping with his grief while Sean is stricken with guilt...until a wondrous being enters their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the FOURTH story in the TEDDY BEAR TALES. I am definitely certain that many of you will proceed no further than the Prologue. Unfortunately, it will be your loss if you don't finish it up to the end. Take a risk. Read it. I'm sure you won't regret it. "The Sound Of Angel's Wings" is a rather depressing piece, especially since I wrote it during a very trying period in my life. Ironically, this story is probably the easiest I have ever written. I'm still sticking with the notion that angels dictated this tale to me. Up to now, I really can't believe that I wrote this story. Anyway, this story is dedicated to ALL THE HIGHLANDER MAVERICKS!! If it isn't for you lovely ladies, I doubt this story would ever have been completed. Thanks for your support, your love and all your prayers. This story is for YOU!!

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

         Duncan MacLeod dug his hands into the pockets of his duster and shivered. Every exhalation came out as steam, mixing with the thick fog surrounding him. Weather forecasters said that winter was upon them, and judging from the sudden drop in temperature, it was going to be one of the coldest winters Seacouver will ever experience.

         However, the Highlander was unmindful of the weather or the icy breeze pummeling his body. Neither did he notice the leaves of the tree he was standing under dropping all around him like dead butterflies that had breathed their last. All he could feel was the terrible cold that seemed to permeate his entire being, his heart most of all.

         "I HATE YOU!"

         How could those three words hurt so much? Up to now, he couldn't believe he would hear those words from the mouth of a four-year old child, his own son.

         But Sean Richard had said those three words to him before, when he was just a few months old. When he had rejected the child, not knowing that his missing son was the baby he held in his arms.

         Now, Sean had rejected him.

         Duncan had always wanted a son. The fact that he had given birth to a child was a miracle of its own. But Sean was not an ordinary child. He wasn't a child at all. He was an adult trapped in the body of a little boy.

         He and Methos had early on noted that their son was different, and not just because of his telepathic skills. Sean's interests tended more to the pursuits of a sixteen-year old, all raging hormones. Duncan certainly couldn't forget Sean's intense preoccupation with female breasts. Since he couldn't satisfy his sexual curiosity at this early physical stage, he poured all his frustrations out in books. Just four-years old and Sean already had the intellect of a genius.

         Methos doted on the child, buying him every book he could find. He even bought Sean his own computer with its own Internet access. It dismayed the Scot to learn that his son had learned how to hack into every pornographic site existent on the Web.

         Duncan wanted to wean the boy away from his intellectual and amorous preoccupations, although he couldn't find it in him to wean Sean away from feeding on him. The contact of that small mouth on his nipple was the only thing that helped him to remember that Sean was still a baby.  That and good ole Teddy that Sean always carried around with him. A child who was losing out on the wonders that childhood had to offer.

         The Highlander couldn't remember when the arguments began. He just wanted Sean to go out and play with kids his own age, not to stay cooped up inside the house for so long in front of his computer. Sean always told him he wasn't interested. He said that the kids would not understand him anyway.

         Ever patient Methos was always the arbiter, always convincing him to leave Sean to his pursuits.

         "He'll grow out of it, you'll see," the ancient had assured him.

         But his son had showed no signs of growing out of it.

         With a sigh, Duncan remembered how he had come home earlier with one of those clay playsets for Sean. The child, as usual, was seated before his computer.

 

        "Look what I brought for you, Sean!" Duncan greeted cheerfully, waving the tubs of PlayDoh before his eyes.

         "Yeah, thanks, Mama," was Sean's absent-minded reply as his eyes flicked back and forth over the text of a treatise about the mating rituals of the yak. "Just put it over there."

         In exasperation, the Highlander had switched off the computer, drawing an angry protest from his son.

         "Sean, you've been at your computer for nearly the whole day every day. Why don't you come out with me for a change? We could play. Have fun."

         "This is fun for me." Sean was about to switch the computer back on again. But Duncan yanked the plug with his toe. With an exasperated groan, his son had crossed his arms over his chest, a major pout forming on his lips. "Mama, this is what I like to do. I don't want to hang around with kids who don't have the same intellectual capacity as I do."

         "I'm not talking about other kids. I'm talking about me. Don't you want to go out with me? We could play ball in the park. Maybe go to an amusement park and check out the rides."

         "Mama, I told you things like that don't interest me."

         "And what does interest you? Pornography?"

         "I don't want to talk about it."

         "Sean..." Duncan got down to his knee beside the child. "I just want you to have a normal childhood."

         "But I'm not normal, am I?"

         "No, not exactly, but..."

         "I can't help the way I am. You gave birth to me. Live with it."

         At that remark, Duncan lost his temper. "When are you going to start acting like a child?"

         To this, Sean retorted, "When are YOU going to stop acting like one?"

         "Sean, don't be so difficult!"

         "I'm being difficult? You're the one who's being difficult. Why can't you leave me alone?"

         "Because I'm your mother!"

         "My mother?" Sean burst into bitter laughter. "If I remember correctly, Mother," he said the word with such acidity, "you rejected me. I was trying to tell you that I am your real son, but you were so immature and so irrational that you couldn't understand what I was trying to say."

         "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know!"

         "You refused to listen to me! And in doing so, you rejected me!" Sean glared at the Scot. "God, I HATE you! I wish you were never my mother! I wish I had never been born!"

 

         Duncan clenched his hand tightly, closing his eyes. He could still feel the stinging contact of his hand against that soft cheek.

        _Oh, God! _the Highlander thought in horror._ How could I have struck my own son like that?_

         Suddenly, there was a droning sensation in his head, jolting his taut nerves. As if on cue, a man strode out of the mist, sword in hand.

         "Are you Duncan MacLeod?" the Immortal asked him.

         "Yes, I'm Duncan MacLeod," was his flat reply.

         "I'm Marco Desiderio, and I've come to challenge you."

         "I have no quarrel with you, Marco. We don't have to do this."

         "But I'm afraid we have to." The Immortal grinned, readying his sword. "I've heard a lot about you, MacLeod. You're one of the most powerful Immortals on this earth. Imagine what would happen to me if I took your head."

         "If I allow you to take it, and I have no interest in taking yours."

         "Draw your sword."

         "I won't fight you!" The Scot waved his hand dismissingly. "I have more important business to attend to, like my son who's waiting for me back home."

         But Marco blocked the Highlander's path with his blade. "If you want to go home to your son, you must fight me first."

         Duncan sighed, seeing the futility of it, and pulled out his sword. "We don't have to do this," he repeated.

         "It's the time of the Gathering, MacLeod," Marco reminded him. "There can be only one."

         At once, the two Immortals fought, their swords clashing that sparks flew with every collision of metal against metal. Duncan was a good swordsman, but his heart wasn't in it. He couldn't feel his heart beating at all. Just that damnable cold, like a block of ice had been wedged in his chest cavity.

         Numb as he was, Duncan didn't feel the sharp edge of a blade slash through his gut or that his katana had slipped from his grasp. Neither did he feel his life's blood trickle out of him and onto the grass at his knees.

         There was just an abrupt pain as the edge of a sword sliced through his neck. Then, he felt nothing at all, not even the agony of knowing that he would never see his beloved son again.

 

         Glancing worriedly at the clock, the ancient wanted so much to follow his stricken lover.

         He had arrived at the loft just in time to see Duncan slap their son in the face. For what seemed like an eternity, all three of them stood transfixed, shocked by what had just happened.

         Then, Sean hurled the PlayDoh across the room, screaming "I HATE YOU!", and ran to his bedroom on the third floor.

         The Highlander had looked at him then, tears streaming down his cheeks, holding his hand in horror.

         Before Methos could speak, Duncan had sobbed bitterly, "I didn't mean to hurt him, Methos! I was only trying to get him to play with me! I'm sorry! Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Saying this, the Scot snatched his coat and his sword and fled from the loft.

        _Mac's late, _thought the Old Man in concern._ Where could he be? Damn it, I should have said something! _Sighing, he decided,_ But Sean must come first. Once I get him calmed down, I'll leave him with Joe and I could go look for Duncan._

         Methos was sitting beside the closed door of Sean's room. For the past hour or two, he had been trying to coax the child out.

         "Why won't he understand how I feel?" Sean sobbed within. "He knows I'm different."

         "Sean, please! You know how difficult things have been for your mother. You're in the position to understand."

         "Understand what? Hey, it's not my fault all those bad things happened to him. It's not my fault that he was raped! Damn it, Papa! All I want is to be left alone and do my own thing! Maybe it would've been better if I didn't have a mother breathing down my neck all the time! I wish I never had a mother!"

         At that comment, a sudden pain pierced his heart causing Methos to gasp and press his hand over his chest. Just as quickly as it came, the pain disappeared. At once, the worry resurfaced. Damn it, Duncan! Where are you? Please come home! Turning back to the child, he said, "Sean, never, ever say that! You don't know what it's like not to have a mother. You're very lucky you have Duncan, and he loves you very much.  I never even knew my mother. Don't ever wish for something like that. You'll always mourn the loss, like I have."

         There was silence on the other side of the door. Then, Sean said softly, "I didn't mean to say that. I was just so angry. I'm sorry."

         Methos smiled in relief. At that moment, the phone started to ring. Getting to his feet, he told the child inside, "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to your mother when he gets back."

         Running to the phone, the ancient raised the receiver and said, "Hello! Mac, is that you? Where are..."

         "Adam..." a choked voice answered, barely recognizable.

         "Who is this?"

         "Methos, it's me, Joe."

         "Oh, hi, Joe! Long time, no hear. We were going to drop by later and..."

         "Methos..."

         There was something in the Watcher's voice that caused him to pause. "Joe, what is it? Is something wrong?"

         That same instant, Sean timidly emerged from his room, looking hesitantly at his father.

         "I'm sorry!" Joe blurted out. "I did everything I could! But I couldn't do anything! It was too late!"

         "Joe, wait!" Methos interrupted, hearing the Watcher begin to cry. "Take a deep breath! Tell me what happened!"

         "I couldn't save him! I swear I tried, but it was too late!"

         "Save who? Joe!"

         There was deafening silence on the other end. When Joe spoke at last, the world suddenly crashed around Methos in roaring, devastating bits.

         "Duncan. He's dead, Methos. I'm so sorry."

         Methos set the receiver down in stunned silence, as tears began to fall from his eyes. When he turned around, he saw Sean standing behind him -- so small, so vulnerable, wide, shocked eyes red from crying.

         "I felt something earlier," Sean admitted. Methos recalled the ache he had felt earlier. "A pain. Now I can't feel anything at all." Gesturing to the phone, he asked, "Who's that on the phone? Is it my Mama? Please tell me it's Mama!"

         Rather than answer, Methos embraced his son tightly as he began to weep hard.

         He barely heard Sean wail, "No! Thats not true! Not my Mama! I take it back, Papa! Everything I said! I just want my Mama! I want my Mama back! Oh, Mama! I m so sorry!!"


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

         The days following the Highlander's death seemed to move at a snail's pace.

         Methos was lost in a haze of disbelief and shock, floating aimlessly in a limbo of despair where no one could rouse him. He had fallen into this stupor immediately after Joe Dawson had told him that they had the Scot's body cremated. It was SOP for the Watchers to do this, so that there won't be any evidence of Immortals lying around.

         How it had hurt him to learn that. Methos wanted to rant and rave at his friend for doing this. He was robbed of the chance to see his lover one last time, even in death's repose. But he knew that venting out his anger and frustration would accomplish nothing. Instead, Methos fell into that state of numbness where no one could reach him.

         There was a small memorial ceremony for the Highlander. It vaguely registered inside the ancient's mind how there seemed to be only a few well-wishers. Duncan MacLeod was a well-loved man. Strange that only a few came to mourn his death.

         At one point, Methos was momentarily roused by a heated argument between Joe and Amanda. For some reason, the Immortal thief was furious, he remembered that. Of their exchange, the Old Man only recalled snippets.

         "You had no right...!"

         "No choice...!"

         "But the crystal..."

         "It was too late!"

         Over and over again, Methos berated himself, I should have followed him. I should never have stayed too long talking to Sean. I should have been with him that night.

         But it was too late for regrets.

         Returning home after the memorial, the loft had seemed like a mausoleum without Duncan. It was stifling, the silence choking him with grief and loneliness.

         Unable to endure it any longer, the ancient made the decision to go to the cabin on the island with his son. Thankfully, for once, his belligerent offspring obeyed his orders.

         Methos thought the change of scenery would do him good. However, when they arrived, the solitude, the comforting embrace of Mother Nature, the cabin that reeked of the absence of its owner... It only made the Old Man's depression much worse.

         So where could a lonely Immortal find solace in a cruel, taking world? Certainly not beer. Something much stronger.

         Thank God, Duncan had left a bottle of Scotch for him in the cabinet.

 

         "Papa?" Sean asked timidly, carrying a small tray in his hands. "I brought you some coffee."

         Methos didn't answer. He just stared blankly out the bedroom window, and at the snow falling outside the cottage, covering the island in a thick white blanket. He took a long swig from the bottle of Scotch he held in his hand.

         The child swallowed hard and laid the tray on the small table beside him. "In case you want anything..."

         No reply. Sean bit back the scream that was rising in his throat, demanding that he be seen, that he be heard, that he be acknowledged in any way. Anything, as long as he would know that he still existed.

         He must have projected his thoughts very strongly for his father suddenly turned to look at him.

         The child was taken aback by the anguish he saw in those reddened hazel orbs.

         Before Methos gazed back at the white expanse surrounding the cabin, Sean heard his thoughts as clear as day.

        He shouldn't have died! the ancient thought miserably. God damn it! Why did he wish for his mother to die? It's all his fault! It's all his damned fault!

        I didn't mean it! Sean cried out in his mind. Papa, I swear I didn't!

         This time, Methos ignored him, choosing to wallow completely in his grief and misery.

         Biting his lower lip, Sean said softly, "I'm sorry, Papa."

         As he went back into the living room, the child felt the tears begin to trickle from his eyes once more.

         Sean never understood why his parents refused to take him to the cabin on the island. Now, alone with an unresponsive Methos, he knew the reason why.

         Everything in the cabin echoed the memory of the Immortal who was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod - from the simple furnishing to the pictures of a distant past lying on the table and on the mantle above the fireplace. The whole place smelled of Duncan.

         But of the physical presence of the Highlander, there was nothing. Even the memory was not enough to make up for the loss, a loss that Sean knew was his own doing.

         Ever rational, the child tried to force himself to believe that there was no such thing as curses or that idiotic warning, saying to be careful about making wishes that could come true in the worst way possible. It just doesn't happen.

         Unfortunately, it did, and he couldn't think of any rational reason for it except the irrational explanation that it was his fault by wishing his mother out of his existence.

         Looking back at the drunken figure sitting by the window, Sean knew that his father believed this too.

         Wanting to get out of the stifling environment of the cabin, Sean flung the door open and ran weeping into the snowy night. He ran on and on, though the ice and wind pummeled his tiny body. But he had to escape from the guilt that was tearing him apart.

         Blinded was he with grief, Sean did not see the rock that was jutting out from the snow. With a surprised cry, he tripped and fell face first on the snow.

         Pounding his tiny fists on the ground, he cried out in the darkness, "I want my Mama back! Please return my Mama to me! I'll do anything if you'll just bring my Mama back!"

         His outburst was stilled by a flash above his head. Gazing up, Sean saw a ball of light streaking down from the sky, landing with a crash not far from him. Though frightened, he somehow got his courage up and toddled off in the direction the ball had fallen.

         The child reached a small clearing, in the middle of which was something glowing with a pulsating light. For a moment, Sean hesitated. When the light died down, he slowly made his way towards the thing lying in the center.

         A delighted cry escaped Sean's lips. In his happiness, he didn't notice anything peculiar about the creature lying at his feet. His eyes were riveted to that beautiful, familiar face.

         Getting down on his hands and knees, Sean crawled towards the unconscious form and settled close to it, embracing it tightly, not wanting to let it go.

         "You came back!" he sighed in relief. "I'm so glad you came back!"

 

         Methos was roused from his drunken stupor by the icy wind and the snow that entered through the open door of the cabin.

         "Sean?" he slurred. "Would you please close the door?"

         But there was no reply.

         The ancient felt his heart begin to thud rapidly in his chest as he stood up, searching for his son. When he saw that Sean wasn't in his room, the effects of the liquor quickly vanished. Heading for the door, Methos saw tiny footprints heading out into the snow.

         "Oh, dear God! No!" Methos muttered in shock as he ran out, calling Sean's name. That same moment, a comet streaked across the sky and crashed in the woods.

         Fear overwhelming him, the ancient made his way into the forest, desperately searching for his missing son.

        Dear Lord, prayed Methos earnestly as he pushed through the bushes and the brambles, you've already taken Duncan from me. Please don't take my son too!

         A dissipating light in the distance immediately caught his eye. Swiftly, the Old Man headed in the direction of the light, remembering that it probably was in the small clearing not far from him.

         Reaching it, Methos was greeted by a most astonishing sight.

         "Duncan?" he whispered in disbelief.

         The young man lying on the snow-covered grass looked like Duncan MacLeod. Indeed, the ancient could have sworn that it was the Highlander. But the man's brown hair was lighter in shade, almost golden. He wore a silky white robe, the hem of which was hitched up, revealing long legs much like the Scot's. On his back, however, were two large snow-white wings. A wing was laid over Sean, who was sleeping peacefully. In his tiny hand was clenched a gold ring, obviously the man's halo.

         Not knowing what else to do, Methos picked up the unconscious young man and Sean in his arms, and made his way back to the cabin.

         Reaching the cabin at last, Methos carried his two charges inside, not minding the melted snow sloshing at his feet, and kicked the door close behind him. As if having a mind of their own, his feet brought him to the master bedroom. Nudging the covers aside with his knee, he laid the winged young man on the bed. He was about to take Sean, but the child mumbled in protest, holding on tightly to the man's waist. As if sensing the boy's distress, the young man embraced the boy and draped his broken wing over him.

         Sighing, the ancient decided to leave them that way and went inside the bathroom to get some antiseptic and bandages. Sitting down beside the bed, Methos cleaned the man's scratches. Carefully, he set the broken wing, pausing only when his strange patient whimpered in pain. When he was finally done, his eyes were drawn to that handsome face once more.

        Except for his hair, he looks so much like Duncan, thought Methos, rolling a strand of golden brown hair between his fingers. Abiding a tempting urge, he reached out to the smooth cheek, his fingertips brushing across the silky skin.

         The memory of his lost love caused Methos to burst into bitter tears. His left hand went to his face to halt the flow, but it was hopeless. As his body hitched with the force of his weeping, he cursed inwardly, Damn you, MacLeod! How could you leave us like this? How am I going to live without you?

         There was a soft sound coming from the bed. Thinking Sean had picked up on his troubled thoughts, Methos blanked out his mind and hastily wiped away his tears.

         But then, he felt something wet trickle on his right hand, and it was enfolded in a warm grip. Gazing down, Methos was surprised to see that it was the young man who was holding on to his hand -- the same hand he had not removed when he fell into a crying fit. There was a tear track coming from the closed right eye to the ancient's knuckles. As he looked on, an amber tear began to form at the corner. That soft whimper again escaped from the man's full lips. With a sob, the winged man pressed Methos' hand to his lips, bestowing a tiny kiss that suffused the Old Man with soothing warmth. The ancient tried to pull his hand back, but the young man shook his head, refusing to let it go.

         "All right," he whispered reassuringly. "I won't cry. I'm fine now."

         Sensing the lie, however, the young man refused to release Methos' hand, the amber tear at last falling from his eye and trickling down his cheek.

         Methos groaned, seeing that his mysterious guest would not let him go. With his toe, he pulled the chair towards the bed and sat down. Weary and grief-stricken, the ancient laid his head on the soft, sweetly-scented feathers of the man's left wing.

         Somehow, his mind brought him back to the cabin of six years past, and to the loving, child-like Highlander who had warmed his cold heart and, eventually, captured his soul. Glancing at his hand enfolded in that tender grip, Methos pondered why the presence of this young man brought back the memory of that sweet, gentle soul.

         As he finally drifted off to sleep, the ancient murmured a word. "Angel."

 

         In Sean Richard's bedroom, Teddy sat quietly on the child's bed, leaning against a pillow.

         Suddenly, the bear began to glow with a golden aura and tiny, flickering lights fell upon him like snowflakes. Then, Teddy moved, stretching his arms out. Scratching his head, the toy got to his feet. He toddled towards the edge of the bed, jumped down to the floor and headed right out into the hallway, going to the master bedroom.

         Peeking through the crack of the door, the bear paused for a moment, looking at the three sleeping figures. As he went inside, Teddy placed his stubby paws on his hefty waist, shaking his head, truly resentful at being forgotten.

         Probably sensing the toy's presence, the winged man slowly sat up on the bed. There was a sweet smile on his face as he gestured for the bear to approach. Teddy hesitated, his button eyes shining with disbelief. But when the young man let down his injured wing, the bear quickly ran towards it and grabbed it. The man exhaled sharply, feeling an ache in his wing, as he boosted the toy up on the bed.

         Noting the young man's discomfort, Teddy ran his paws over the break in his wing in a soothing massage. But the man gave the bear a reassuring smile. At once, Teddy scooted onto the man's lap. Lifting the toy in his arms, Methos' strange guest hugged Teddy in glee, bussing the bear at the top of his head. He then carefully laid Teddy beside the sleeping child, who readily embraced the toy though not relinquishing his grip on the ring of gold he held in his tiny hand.

         The young man glanced down at the ancient. Releasing Methos' hand, he lovingly caressed the Old Man's face, fingers playing with the silky curtain of lashes. Kissing the tip of his finger, the young man then pressed it to the tip of Methos' nose. The ancient let out a soft sigh.

         Seeing that all was finally well, for the night at least, the ancient's mysterious guest lay back down on the bed, his left arm cradling Sean and Teddy while his right hand caressed the top of the Methos' head.

 

         Methos was caught in a beautiful night vision. In his dream, he was lying in a bed of soft, perfumed white feathers. Turning onto his back caused tiny tufts to flutter all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, a lovely winged creature, bare as a babe, was creeping towards him on hands and knees. There was a gentle smile on his lips as he peered into the ancient's face through beautiful violet eyes.

         "Duncan!" whispered Methos, reaching out a trembling hand to caress that high cheekbone. "My beloved Duncan! You've come back to me!"

         The Old Man started to wakefulness when his fingers encountered not the wispy ether that dreams were made of but soft, silky skin. He also felt a slight tugging under his face and frantic whimpering as if someone -- or something -- was trying desperately to pull free. Blindly, Methos raised his hand and grabbed a hold of the blurred, struggling form above him.

         There was a pained cry and Methos quickly shook off the cobwebs. Gazing down, he blanched, seeing that he was holding a fistful of feathers. The lovely creature he had yanked the feathers from had scooted to the headboard, curled up in a ball, clutching his aching, broken wing. Pressed close to his chest was good ole Teddy. To the Old Man, it seemed as if the bear was giving him a scolding look.

         "Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" Methos declared, holding out the feathers in his hand. "Don't worry! I could imp them back in."

         But as the ancient sat on the bed, the young man shrank into the corner of the bed, pretty violet eyes wide with fear.

         Before Methos could get closer, an overjoyed Sean entered the room, carrying a tray of milk and cookies.

         "Good morning, Mama!" the child greeted cheerfully. "I brought you some breakfast." Laying the tray on the table, a sheepish Sean scratched his head. "Sorry about this, but I couldn't find anything else in the kitchen."

         Sean climbed onto the bed and started crawling towards the petrified young man.

         "Sean, wait..." said Methos, about to stop his son. But Sean had already flung his little arms around the waist of their strange, bewildered guest.

         "Oh, Mama! You don't know how happy I am that you came back to us. I promise I'll be a good boy from now on. I swear I'll do everything you say."

         The winged man gazed at the child with growing alarm as Sean eagerly hastened to open his robe.

         Knowing what his son intended to do, Methos leaned forward, about to snatch him back. "Not today, child. I'll just fix you a bottle in the kitchen. Let your Mama rest."

         But the child was successful in baring the young man's right breast and a delightfully pink nipple. A red flush colored the man's cheeks when Sean smacked his lips on his tit and began to suckle.

         "Sean, I want you to stop." Methos gave his guest a helpless glance. The winged man blinked at the ancient, just as confused. Giving in to an urge to comfort the little boy, hesitantly, he raised his hands, about to embrace Sean.

         A frustrated mumble escaped Sean's lips. As Methos looked on, the child started to twist his head from side to side, tugging at the tiny tit. His hands fiercely kneaded the man's breast.

         "Sean, what are you doing?" the Old Man exclaimed, seeing the distress on the other man's face.

         The young man cried out in pain as Sean bit into his nipple and started pounding furiously on his chest with his small fists.

         "Stop it, Sean! Stop it right now!" Methos swiftly grabbed his son away.

         There was a perplexed expression on Sean's face as he looked closely at their mysterious guest, who was rubbing his aching chest. The ancient saw the child's eyes assume a piercing glare, staring into the man's face. Slowly, Sean's features scrunched up, shaking his head in utter dismay and disappointment.

         "You're not him!" the boy started to sob. "You're not my Mama!"

         Seeing the deep hurt in the child, the winged man inched close to him, wanting to take Sean into his arms and comfort him. Before Methos could stop his son, however, Sean pushed the young man away, who looked at the little boy in shock.

         "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Sean screamed, tears streaming down his pudgy cheeks. "YOU'RE NOT MY MAMA!"

         "Please, Sean!" the Old Man begged the child, holding on to him. "Son, please get a hold of yourself! You could see for yourself he's not your mother. Oh, Sean! Try to calm down!"

         Somehow, Sean's eyes focused on the bear in the distressed young man's arms. Enraged, the boy twisted out of his father's grasp, grabbing the toy's paws. The winged man, however, clutched Teddy to his chest, refusing to let it go.

        "Teddy's mine!" cried Sean in a fury. "You give him back to me!"

         The stricken young man was shaking his head, desperately trying to keep the bear out of the child's grasp. From his position, Methos could clearly see why. The seams along Teddy's shoulders were about to give way from Sean's frantic pulling.

         As he started to weep himself, the ancient pried his son's hands loose from his grip on the bear. Sean howled in anger and grief.

         Bowing to his guest, Methos stammered, "Forgive us. Please." Saying this, he quickly carried the hysterical little boy back inside his room. The Old Man closed the door and set his son down on the bed.

         "Mama's dead!" Sean wept bitterly, his tiny body hitching with the force of his sobs and hiccups. "He's never coming back, and it's all my fault!"

         Methos cupped the child's face in his hands, wiping his tears away with his fingers, but Sean continued to cry. "Sean, no! Don't say that! It's not your fault!"

         "Oh, yes it is, because I made that wish -- that I didn't want to have a mother! My Mama died because of me!"

         "Please, son! Just listen to yourself! You've always used your head. You're always the logical one. Think, Sean! You know you can't wish people out of existence."

         "But I did, and you know it! Because of me, Mama's dead, and you hate me for it!"

         "Sean, that's not true! I could never hate you! You're my son! You're the only one I have left! I love you, Sean!"

         "You're lying! I saw it in your mind! YOU BLAME ME!"

         With the child's growing agitation, so too did his psychic powers begin to manifest, increasing in intensity. To Methos' horror, he could see that the toys were rattling on the shelves. The computer screen was flickering, though it wasn't plugged. The diskettes on the desk and the toys started to fly, as if caught in a maelstrom. Methos had to shield his son with his body as the toys pummeled them. A sharp pair of scissors broke through his defenses and slashed across Sean's cheek.

         "God, Sean! Stop this please!" Methos screamed, covering the boy's face with his hands. "Get a hold of yourself! Look inside my heart! You'll know how much I love you!"

        "I wish it was me!" wailed Sean, willing the projectiles to hurt him. "It should've been me who died, not my Mama! I wish I was dead! I WISH I WAS DEAD!"

         "Is that what you want, Sean? Is that what you want?" the Old Man demanded. "Then do it! But damn it, son, take me with you! Kill us both! I don't want to live alone! I can't live without you or your mother!"

         Suddenly, the chaos around them ceased. Methos cautiously looked up to find Sean's things suspended in mid-air. One by one, the toys floated back into their proper places on the shelves. The diskettes were carefully stacked on the table. As father and son stared in amazement, the pair of scissors floated into an outstretched hand. That same hand angrily flung it into the hallway.

         The winged man stood at the doorway, amber tears streaming down his handsome face. Quietly, he padded towards them. Facing Sean, he offered Teddy back to him. The young man bit his full lower lip as he urged the child to take the toy. For a moment, Sean hesitated, not knowing what to do. Rather than wait for the little boy to make up his mind, the winged man laid the bear on his lap, his fingers caressing the loose threads at Teddy's shoulder. With a sad little bow, he began to walk away, limping as he did so.

         "Wait, please..." Methos called out, about to stand.

         It was Sean who moved first, closing the distance between him and the departing young man. He enfolded his tiny arms around those long legs.

         "I'm sorry, Mister! I'm so sorry!" Sean wept in sincere apology. "I didn't mean to be cruel to you! Please forgive me! Don't go! You look so much like my Mama! I beg you! Please don't leave us!"

         Hearing the last, the winged man swept the child into his embrace, cuddling him, kissing him lovingly on the brow. Running a gentle finger over the little boy's cheek, the man healed the bleeding cut. As he rocked Sean, he let the left shoulder of his robe slide down his arm. Taking his nipple between his fingers, he squeezed it gently, his palm rubbing over his breast. Carefully, he eased Sean to his left tit.

         The boy peered up warily at the stranger holding him. However, the young man gave him a reassuring smile. Gingerly, Sean pressed his lips to the nipple, drawing in a deep breath. At once, delicious nectar flooded into his mouth -- that and love so pure that it soothed and warmed his aching heart.

         Methos noticed the change in his son, saw peace settle on his face. To his amazement, Sean even settled into blissful sleep, his lips suckling lustfully on that tit. The ancient slowly went towards the winged man. The man hummed questioningly, but the Old Man led him towards Sean's bed and bade him to lie back on the headboard. Methos even propped up pillows on his back and at his arm.

         "I..." he began with hesitation. "I don't know what to say, except to offer my apology for what happened." Methos ran his fingers through Sean's curly black locks. "My son...he's not always like this. You see, his mother died recently. Like Sean said, he looks like you. Yes, he's a man. It's...it's a complicated thing. Hard to explain." The ancient shook his head. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not making any sense."

         Methos' head lifted to look at his guest.

         The young man had a blank expression on his face, his full lips pursed in an O. For awhile, they just stared at each other, their eyes blinking at the same time.

         Methos breathed in deeply and sighed. "I guess you really didn't understand me."

         The man cocked his head from side to side, his eyes narrowing. A wide smile slowly quirked up his lips. With a quick twist of his head, he burst into gleeful laughter. His voice sounded like tinkling bells and wind chimes.

         There was sheer disbelief on Methos' face as he gaped at the laughing young man before him. To his dismay, those hearty giggles were contagious and the ancient found himself laughing along until he was gasping for breath. When his giggles eased into soft hiccups, Methos noticed that his guest was smiling at him warmly, the kind of fond smile that his beloved used to give him.

        Duncan... There was a sudden lancing pain in his heart. Unable to control himself, the ancient's laughter dissolved into a crying jag.

         "I'm sorry," Methos stammered as he stumbled towards the door. "I'm so sorry!"

         The ancient hurried back inside his bedroom, flinging his distraught form on the bed. But the imposed solitude only aggravated his grief --  that and the sweet scent of mountain heather on the sheets. Methos surrendered to his pain and loneliness, his mind reliving happy moments with the Highlander with agonizing ease. Lost as he was in his sorrow, the Old Man lost track of the time. It seemed like millennia passed when it was only an hour and a half.

         In his distress, Methos did not hear the door squeak open. Before he could react, strong hands lifted him up and into a loving embrace. For a moment, he couldn't move, though his tears continued to trickle from his wide, stunned eyes. To resist the comfort that was being offered was the first thing that entered his mind. He didn't need this. What he wanted was to be left alone with the numbing ache inside his heart and the memories of his lost love.

         But his firm resolve melted away, like snow in the warm spring sun, when those pristine white wings enfolded him. A gentle hand eased his face to the tiny tit that was being offered to him. Methos' lips opened of their own volition and took in the taut nub. Clinging tightly to the young man's back, the ancient suckled on that nipple, drawing the sweet draught inside his mouth, like a babe upon his mother. That sweet milk...so piquant, so luscious and yet the taste was so familiar to him, so much like the essence of the Immortal from whom he had himself savored with ravenous delight.

         "Duncan..." Methos mumbled his lover's name as the sobs began to rise in his throat.

         There was a bright red flash inside his mind, willing his tears down. Even without words, the Old Man knew what it meant.

_         Don't cry. Please don't cry._

         Methos felt the young man nod, happy that he had understood, sending waves of deep blue all over the Immortal's body.

_         It's all right. I won't leave you or your son._

         "Who are you?" the ancient muttered, his lips moving to the other tit. "Are you an angel?"

         A tiny yellow spark. &lt;Yes.&gt;

         "Are you his angel? My Duncan's guardian?"

         No answer. All he saw was white before his eyes. Methos' eyelids fluttered open and he gazed up to find reluctant violet eyes staring down at him.

         "You look so much like Duncan," Methos whispered. At the sight of those full lips, he eased up and kissed him.

         The angel gasped in surprise, but did nothing to stop that tender, yet desperate, caress.

         "Duncan...my sweet Duncan..." Methos' left hand supported the angel's back, between the region where his wings were attached. His right hand paused at the center of that broad chest, slowly descending, caressing that firm abdomen and the pit of his navel. Tremulous fingers ran through the nest of golden curls before enfolding the awakening sex within that was so much like the Highlander's.

         A strong hand grasped his wrist, prying his fingers loose. Again, that bright red flash.

_         No. Please._

         The young man lowered Methos' head to his chest again, his fingers squeezing his right nipple that an amber drop formed at the tip.

_        This is all I can give you. Forgive me._

         That small offering was enough for the ancient as he lowered his face to that tit and began to suckle once more.

         "My name is Methos, and the child is my only son, Sean Richard," the Old Man mumbled in introduction. "What is your name, dear angel? What do I call you?"

         There was a moment's hesitation. Then, Methos' mind was flooded with a kaleidoscope of color and vague images of clouds, crystal castles and winged beings. There was a pillar of light from which a shining hand reached out in welcome. At that same instant, he heard a voice --  all powerful, almost echoing, but it had a calming effect on his bitter soul. The voice said a name.

        "Radha..." the voice said with great love and fondness. "Beloved Radhael."

         "Is that your name?" queried the ancient. "Radhael?"

         He felt the angel nod again, pillowy lips kissing the crown of his head.

         "Radhael...Radha..." Methos whispered as he succumbed to the love and warmth the angel was showering upon him. "Thank you."

         A soothing green color filled his mind as he slowly drifted off to sleep. _You're most welcome, Methos._


	3. Chapter 3

 

** CHAPTER THREE **

Methos was seated at the head of their small dining table, his son and the angel on either side of him. Although he hasn't had a good night's sleep in the days following Duncan's death, he seemed strangely refreshed. The ancient wondered if it had something to do with that pleasurable feeding the other day. After he and Sean had drunk their fill, they had practically slept the whole day. Up to now, he could still taste the angel's milk on his tongue. Whatever the reason, Methos found himself able to break out temporarily from his stupor of grief and prepare a simple breakfast of honeybuns, oatmeal, strawberries and fresh goat's milk. As a contingency, he had also set out a box of frosted cornflakes. 

       "Well?" he asked with a weak, yet inviting, smile, gesturing to the food. "Let's dig in, shall we?" Both father and son reached for the bread basket when they paused. Radhael's eyes were closed, hands clasped together in prayer. Methos and Sean slowly eased back into their seats, seeing that the angel's halo was glowing with a golden aura and growing steadily brighter. Suddenly, a beam of light shone down from the ceiling and upon their simple meal, tiny winking lights raining down upon it. A glorious smile formed on Radha's face. As he made the Sign of the Cross, the light faded away. 

       To the astonishment of Methos and Sean, Radhael quickly snatched a honeybun from the bread basket and took a big bite out of it. Laying the bun on the tabletop, he grabbed his glass of milk in both hands, gulping it down noisily. With a shake of his head, he licked the white mustache from his upper lip and let out a refreshed "AAAAH!" Noticing the shocked expressions on the faces of father and son, Radha grabbed two buns and plunked one each right in the middle of Methos' and Sean's bowl of oatmeal. Giggling, he then took the box of cornflakes and started pouring its contents into Sean's bowl. Sean halted the downpour with his hand. "Uh...thank you. That's enough." He grimaced at the sight of the small mountain of cornflakes in the middle of his oatmeal. 

       "Radha, thank you, but I'm not really a cornflakes kind of guy," Methos hastily remarked as the angel dumped the cereal into his bowl. Carefully putting a strawberry on top of the cornflake mountains, Radhael clapped his hands in glee, pleased by his creations. Having served Methos and Sean, the angel poured the remainder of the cereal – still about three fourths of the carton -- in his oatmeal. He was about to dump all the strawberries in his bowl as well, when his halo suddenly fell forward, the ring hitting the bridge of his nose. Rubbing his nose, Radha pulled the halo back, fixing it at the back of his head. But no matter how hard he tried, the halo kept falling. In the end, the ring of gold tightened around his forehead like a head band. Radhael's lower lip jutted out into a pout as he settled back into his seat, chastened by an unseen presence. "Is something wrong, Radha?" queried Sean in concern. 

       The angel sniffled, gazing longingly at his food. 

       Realizing what just happened, the child burst into giggles. "I think I know why. It's because you're so greedy and that's bad. Here, let me put some of the cereal back inside the box." 

       But Radhael gripped his bowl protectively with his arms. He even curled his wings forward. 

       "Now, now, Radhael," Sean chided, reaching for the bowl once more, "it's not nice to be greedy. You're an angel, remember, and angels always have to be good." 

       Radha, however, shook his head stubbornly. 

       At that point, Methos raised both hands to the angel and spoke, "Angel? Come on! Give me the bowl. You don't want Him to be angry now, do you?" 

       The angel hesitated for a moment. With a sad little sniffle, Radha pushed his bowl into the Old Man's hands. Methos replaced the cornflakes in the box, leaving more in the oatmeal for Radha. The angel beamed when the ancient dropped five juicy strawberries into his breakfast. However, when Methos proceeded to return some of the cornflakes from his and Sean's bowls, Radha whimpered, shaking his head. 

       "It's all right, Papa," Sean reassured him. "I think Radha wants us to eat well." 

       "Are you sure you can finish this, son? It's quite a lot." 

       "I can manage," the child piped in, pulling his bowl back. "If I can't finish it, I'll share with Radha." 

       Hearing this, the angel eagerly nodded. At this enthusiastic gesture, however, Radhael's halo dropped to his neck. 

       Methos sighed. "I'll take that as a no." Taking his son's breakfast, he put back the cornflakes that haven't been dunked into the oatmeal, doing the same to the cereal in his own bowl. Seeing the sorrow in Radha's pretty violet eyes, the ancient suggested, "If any of you want a second serving, just ask." 

       Smiling, the angel lifted his still full bowl to the Old Man. 

       Pointing to its contents, Methos remarked, "You have to finish all of that first, Radha." 

       Radhael wrinkled his nose in displeasure. As father and son looked on in shock, the angel raised the bowl to his lips. 

       "Whoa there!" cried Methos, taking the bowl out of Radha's hands. "That's not how you eat!" 

       "Here, Radha!" said Sean, as he picked up his spoon. "I'll show you." 

       There was a grimace on the angel's face as he tried to follow the child's actions, the handle of his spoon gripped tightly in a fist. When his attempt to shovel out a spoonful of cereal resulted in his cornflake mountain's collapse, Radha let out a frustrated grunt, dropped his spoon on the floor and raised his bowl to his lips again. 

       Suddenly, that shaft of light shone down upon the angel once more. To Radhael's dismay, the halo that was around his neck fell to the floor with a jingle. Gazing up into the light, his eyes assumed a chastened look and tears started to well up. He shook his head violently, messing up his lovely golden brown hair. Before Methos and Sean realized what was happening, the angel burst into tears, his whole body hitching with his silent sobs. 

       Father and son immediately got out of their seats and went to Radhael's side. 

       Glaring up into that beam of light, Sean declared furiously, "Why did you make him cry like this? He just wants to eat Earth food!" 

       Methos started, seeing his little boy flip the bird to the invisible deity. Swiftly pushing Sean's flapping middle finger down, the ancient stammered, "Forgive him , my Lord, please. I know you're upset about Radha, but let me handle this. I assure You things will be all right." 

       At this reassurance, the beam of light faded away. Patiently, Methos wiped away Radhael's golden tears, recalling how he had given this small comfort to the child Duncan had become years back. For a moment, he felt a dull ache in his heart. However, when he noticed Radha's distressed violet eyes focused on him, the Old Man quickly shook the thought away. Sean held his father's hand, smiling in understanding. 

       Methos took a spoonful of oatmeal and cornflakes from the angel's bowl. "All right, Radha. Open wide." 

       Sniffling, Radhael quickly opened his mouth and the ancient carefully placed the spoon inside. As he withdrew the utensil, the angel munched and chewed on his food, a sweet little grin on his face. Turning to Sean, he opened his mouth to the child. Laughing, Sean offered him a spoonful of cereal as well. 

       Alternately, father and son fed their strange guest. Soon, however, having observed the way Methos and Sean held their spoons, Radha declined their offer and went about digging into his own breakfast. 

       The meal over, Sean dispatched Radhael to his room, where the angel cuddled and played with Teddy, while singing a lilting melody. He then rejoined his father in the kitchen, who was washing the dishes. "Papa," Sean began in hesitation, "do you think Radhael's a real angel?" 

       The ancient didn't answer at first, distracted as he was by the angel's beautiful voice. Though the words were alien to him, Methos recognized the song as "Les Cloches du Hameau." 

       Then, he answered, "To be honest, I don't know what to think. But, yes, I think he's an angel. Judging from his lovely voice, I'd say he's a seraph. All seraphim are known for their beautiful singing voices. They're the ones who are closest to the throne of God, singing endless praises to him." 

       "I saw a lot of strange things inside his mind while he let me feed on him - beautiful, wondrous things." 

       "Like more angels, rainbow-colored clouds, glass spires?" 

       "Yes." Sean remarked, "Radha's so good...so pure. Is that what it's like to be an innocent, Papa? To be a child?" 

       "It's been a very, very long time since I was a child that I really don't remember." A fond smile formed on Methos' lips at the memory of his own Highland angel. "But, yes, I believe that's what it's like to be a child." 

       "He seems so happy. Why was I born different? I don't understand." 

       "I wish I could give you the answer to that, my son." 

       For a moment, Sean was silent. "You remember Mama, don't you? Radha...he looks so much like my Mama." 

       "In more ways than one. You know I told you your mother had that...accident...and he reverted to the mind and ways of a child." "Mama was like Radhael!" 

       Methos nodded. "Exactly like Radhael." 

       "What if Radha IS my Mama? He just couldn't remember." 

       "But his memories are different. You saw what was inside his mind. Radha is not your mother." 

       "But Papa..." Sean gazed up into his father's wise green gold eyes. "I can pretend, can't I? I can dream. I can hope." 

       Suddenly, their discussion was interrupted by a delighted squeal. As father and son turned their heads in the direction of that happy cry, Radhael whizzed by. Sitting on his shoulders was good ole Teddy. Between his tousled golden head and the bear's belly was Radha's halo. It seemed as if Teddy was holding up that ring of gold for the angel. Before they realized what was happening, Radhael flung the door open, his robe catching on the knob, and ran into the snow as naked as a newborn babe. 

       "SHIT!" exclaimed Sean as he picked up the fallen robe. 

       "Sean?" warned Methos. "Your language!" 

       The child shrugged, grinning. "Sorry, Papa." Running outside, Sean yelled, "Come back here, you winged pervert! You'll get arrested for indecent exposure!" 

       Methos stood at the doorway, watching his little boy chasing after the giggling bare-assed seraph. At first, Sean was roaring in frustration as Radhael evaded his attempts to wrap the robe around him. But soon, Sean was laughing, exhilarated by the chase, oblivious to the fact that Radha didn't seem at all affected by the cold. 

       Memories of a not so distant past returned to him - Joe's house, a time when he was about to give his Highland angel a bath. Just like Radha, Duncan had ran out of the bathroom and into the city streets naked, laughing in pure joy, not a single care in the world. Methos had chased the Scot, bathrobe in hand. Did he not wrap the robe around Duncan and embraced him, the same way Sean was holding on to Radha? 

       *"I can pretend, can't I?"* Sean had asked him earlier. *"I can dream. I can hope."* 

       In his mind, Methos recalled how Duncan had walked through the doorway of the loft that one last time - his chocolate brown eyes were liquid with tears for the pain he had caused his only child. He had looked so lost. The Old Man couldn't remember if he had given the Highlander a reassurance - a sentence, a soothing smile or a simple look that things will be all right. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe if he had reassured the Scot, Duncan would still be alive today. *"I can hope,"* Sean had told him. 

       Methos shook his head. "Better not hope, Sean. They always leave in the end. Like Alexa. Like your mother, and I thought we would live together...forever. Don't hope, Sean. In the end, they always close the door behind them and never come back. I don't know what god brought Radhael to us. But he won't stay. He doesn't belong with us. Don't hope. In the end, it will only break your heart." 

       As the ancient went back inside the cabin, he did not notice that, outside, violet eyes were observing him. 

       *Methos.* The Immortal's name evoked a swirling maelstrom of color inside the angel's mind. For that is what Methos was - a man of many names, many lives. Five millennia of laughter and pain -- the pain, sadly, overwhelming the happiness. 

       Sean flung his little arms around Radhael's neck. Sweeping the child into his embrace, Radha kissed Sean lovingly on the brow. 

       Glancing once more at the cabin, the angel caught a glimpse of the ancient's shadow through the window. 

       _Methos._ Radhael blew an angel's kiss - a tiny pink heart that only he could see - into the cabin. _Always hope. Never despair._

 

       Methos was rummaging through the dresser, looking for clothes that the angel could wear. What the ancient found was Duncan's favorite dark blue shirt. Strangely enough, the fabric wafted with the scent of the Highlander's skin. He pressed the shirt to his face and closed his eyes. At that contact, memories of the Scot flooded into his mind. Methos had loved to see Duncan wearing the shirt -- so dashing he had looked in it. And when he smiled... The ancient took a deep breath to calm his nerves, but that wouldn't stop the tears that were welling up in his eyes. 

       Suddenly, however, Methos had that disturbing feeling that someone was watching him. When he opened his eyes, he almost jumped in surprise, seeing Radhael and Teddy peering at him, their heads the only things visible above the drawer. 

       "Good God, Radha!" the ancient exclaimed, rubbing his pounding chest. "You startled me! I thought you were playing with Sean!" 

       The seraph pouted and made typing gestures with his hands. 

       *So,* Methos thought, *Sean is at his computer again.* "Angel, why don't you go over to Sean and convince him to play with you? He's been spending far too much time in front of that computer. Meanwhile, I'm looking for clothes for you to wear." Showing him the blue shirt, he asked, "What do you think?" 

       Radha looked at the shirt critically and crinkled his nose, shaking his head. He then happily twirled on his toe, letting his robes fly. 

       "Yes, I know how much you like your clothes, but they're not meant for cold weather. Besides, you're bound to wear them out sooner or later." 

       But a small voice inside his head reminded Methos that angel's robes were very durable. 

       Shaking that strange thought away, Methos urged him, "Go on, Angel. Play with Sean." 

       Mumbling to himself, obviously saying that it was hopeless, Radhael nevertheless did as he was told. 

       The ancient shook his head. The seraph reminded him so much of Duncan when he had regressed to the mind of a child. 

       "I can pretend, can't I?" Sean had asked him days back. 

       Oh, how Methos wanted to drown himself in this wonderful illusion! But he knew he cannot allow himself to give in. That path led to pain. And he couldn't take much more of it. 

       "RADHA!" Sean complained. 

       The child was engrossed with the live videos of animal mating rituals on the National Geographic website, when Radhael chose that most inopportune moment to try to get his attention by waving Teddy playfully before his eyes, blocking the screen. 

       Radha grimaced, pulling the bear back, hugging Teddy to his chest. 

       Noticing the disappointment on the angel's face, Sean just didn't have the heart to send him away. Instead, he invited, "Come here beside me, Radha. I want to show you something." 

       The seraph hastened to the little boy's side as Sean clicked the mouse, opening the first video. 

       "This is how fish have sex." 

       Radha's brow creased in a frown, wondering what exactly he was watching. 

       "Next, this is how frogs have sex." 

       The angel's pretty violet eyes widened, seeing the male bullfrog clamber on top of the female. 

       "Here, you have horses making love." 

       The sight caused Radhael's jaw to drop. 

       "Now, look how elephants do it." 

       At once, the seraph covered his open mouth with both hands. 

       "Next, you have gorillas making out." 

       Radha immediately covered his eyes, not wanting to see the two apes humping away. He even turned Teddy around to face his belly. 

       "Last but not least, watch how humans do the wild thing. Go get her, Baldy!" 

       Making an opening between his fingers, the angel gasped in shock and outrage at the sight of the naked bald man plunging his hard cock in and out of the blonde bombshell, while his large hands mashed her voluptuous breasts. 

        Staring at the ceiling, Radha started to whistle as he inched close to the wall. Reaching with the tip of his wing, he yanked the plug off the socket. Before the child could give him a scolding, the angel and Teddy made a quick getaway.  

        "PAPA!" Methos heard Sean cry out, just as Radha and the bear whizzed past him and headed out the door. 

        Then, his angry son himself appeared. "Radha unplugged my computer!" 

        "It's about time, if you ask me," the Old Man remarked. "Let me guess. You were looking at porn again." 

        Sean fell silent. The ancient pulled the little boy into his lap. "Son, I know you have a mature mind and I know how much...earthly...matters interest you. But you are still a child. Childhood...it's a very special time in your life -- when you can dream wondrous things, revel in the beauty of nature, imagine fantasy worlds and far off places." Methos gave him a knowing smile. "A time when you can play with other children and angels." 

        Casting his eyes down, Sean whispered, "Before Mama died, he begged me to play with him. He even bought me some PlayDoh. I wish I had played with him that day." Hugging his father, he sobbed, "Oh, Papa! I miss Mama so much!" 

        Methos embraced him tightly, kissing his cheek. "I know, son. I miss him too." 

        Suddenly, the door banged open and father and son found themselves being sprinkled with icy water. 

        "Radha, stop it!" cried Methos, giggling, shielding his face and Sean from the spray of droplets. 

        But the angel would not stop his deluge. 

        Sean was furious. Turning to the angel, he declared, "If you don't stop, Radhael, I'm gonna whup your ass!" 

        The child, however, found himself face-to-face with the biggest and ugliest catfish he had ever seen. 

        The ancient recognized the fish immediately as the terror of Duncan's brief childhood, Big Bertha. Methos didn't know whether he should laugh or not, for affixed on top of the catfish's head was the angel's halo. 

        Then, Big Bertha's whiskers reached out and tickled Sean's cheeks. Terrified, just like his lover years back, his little boy flung his arms around Methos' neck and bawled, "PAPA! PAPA! IT'S THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON! WAAAAAAAAAH!" 

        Radhael, who was carrying the catfish in his arms, scratched his head in bewilderment. The ancient found it comical the way the angel and Big Bertha looked at each other in confusion and guilt. 

        "Angel, you and Big Bertha are scaring Sean!" Methos exclaimed. "In heaven's name, how were you able to catch her? Listen, Radha. Bertha is a fish. She can't survive long without water. Go on and take her back to the lake." 

        The seraph gazed at father and son in sincere apology. Hugging Bertha lovingly, he trudged outside the cabin with the catfish. 

        Prying his son loose, the Old Man declared, "It's all right, Sean. Bertha's gone." 

        "What the hell was that?" Sean demanded, as his father wiped away his tears. "That was the ugliest thing I ever saw in my life!" 

        "That was Big Bertha and she's one huge catfish. She's a legend in these parts, kinda like the Loch Ness monster. Bertha always enjoyed scaring the living daylight out of your mother. Do you know that there was a time when Duncan actually considered taking her head? He believed Bertha was Immortal." 

        "But...but that's stupid! A catfish can't be Immortal!" 

        "Stupid, you say?" Methos remarked. Grinning, he said, "I'd call that being a child with an overactive imagination." 

        Outside, there was a joyful "WHEEEEEEE!" followed by laughter. Father and son went towards the window, just in time to see Radha, with Teddy on his back, sliding down the snowy slope on his belly with Bertha at his side. It looked like the angel and the catfish were racing against each other, with the lake below as their finish line. 

        "They're having so much fun," Sean commented with a trace of envy. 

        "Why don't you join them?" the ancient suggested. "Believe me, son! You won't regret it. It's about time you know how it feels to be a real child. I'm sure your mother would agree with me." 

        Smiling, Sean nodded. Grabbing his jacket, he dashed after Radha and Bertha, shouting, "Hey! Wait for me, you two!" 

        Methos sighed, watching his son plop down on the snow and belly slide down the hill. For the first time in his four years, Sean, like any normal little boy or girl, was playing. 

        _Oh, Duncan!_  the ancient thought. _Our son's playing! How I wish you were here to see this!_

 

       Methos had fallen asleep on the rocking chair, the shirt he was sewing lying on his lap. The tracks of his tears remained as powdery salt on his cheeks. 

       Having generously nursed Sean Richard until he was sound asleep, Radhael emerged from the master bedroom to check on his other, much older, ward. 

       Quietly, he crept up behind Methos, padding softly around the rocking chair. Slowly, he got down on his knees before the ancient and peered up into that handsome, yet troubled, face. A soft whimper was elicited from the Old Man's lips and a dark frown creased his brow. Curiosity getting the better of him, Radhael carefully raised his finger, the tip barely touching Methos' brow, and closed his eyes to look inside the Immortal's mind. 

       What he saw was a confusing mix of images, mostly of a young man with dark brown hair who looked exactly like him. The man -- *Duncan?* -- lay on a dizzying, shifting stream of ghostly beds, as if the beds were changing one after another in time and space. However, the man himself, lost in the throes of love, passion and desire, remained constant. Duncan was naked, his legs splayed to accomodate the unseen man above him, golden hands clasped with the pale ones of his lover. 

       Then, to his surprise, Radhael found himself looking up through Duncan's eyes, gasping in pain as his body was entered. Through tear- filled eyes, he gazed up to find Methos above him, smiling reassuringly. But the Immortal looked different -- his cropped, militarian hair tousled by the helmet he had removed. Glancing to the side, Radha saw the Immortal's discarded white tunic, his armor and his sandals. A short distance off lay Methos' drum, that had earlier heralded the arrival of kings to a lowly stable. That's were they where -- in the field near the stable, not too far from where the Child lay. 

       A sharp thrust and Radha closed his eyes once more, whimpering in pain. He then felt a gentle hand on his cheek and a soft voice speaking in song -- the language of angels -- promising eternal happiness and love. Daring to look up, Radhael beheld the Immortal's smiling face, peering down at him. This time, however, Methos was clad in the raiments of an archangel at war. The feathers of his snow- white wings fluttered in the breeze. 

       But as they made love, darkness fell upon them. There was a flurry of feathers, screams and blood. So much blood that rained from the sky itself. Overhead, lightning snaked through the heavens. 

       Suddenly, there was agony as they were torn apart by many strong hands. Radhael was crying, reaching out to the ancient. To his horror, Methos fell through a dark chasm, plummeting to the world below, along with many others of their kind who sought to rebel against the might of God. 

       *"No! Not him!"* the angel begged his Lord. *"He does not belong with them!"* 

       Radha had screamed his lover's name. It was not Methos. His name was... 

       The angel's eyelids fluttered open, his head shaking in bewilderment. What was it he saw inside the Immortal's mind? Those images -- so confusing, so disturbing, yet so familiar. Radhael tried to search his own mind for a similar memory, but he hit an impenetrable wall of granite. 

       Carefully, Radha removed his halo. If Methos were like him, the halo would cling to his head -- *wouldn't it?* the angel thought.  Leaning forward, he tried to affix the golden ring to the back of Methos' head. So close was he to the ancient that he could feel Methos' steady breathing upon his face. Something inside his heart urged him to move closer. As his eyes closed, Radhael pressed his full lips to Methos'. 

       At that contact of their lips, the Old Man started awake. Caught by surprise, Radha released his hold on his halo. As he tried to grab it, the rocking chair tilted backward at their combined weight, sending Immortal and angel toppling to the floor. 

       "WHAT THE..." stammered Methos as the flustered seraph clambered off him. "RADHA!" he exclaimed, a lot sharper than he had intended. 

       Like a bad little boy who was caught raiding the cookie jar, Radhael burst into guilt-ridden tears, wringing his knuckles over his eyes. 

       Hearing the noise, a drowsy Sean trudged into the living room, yawning. "What's going on?" 

       Methos clamped a hand over the angel's mouth, stifling his cries. "It's all right, son. The rocking chair just fell over. You can go back to sleep now." 

       Yawning again, Sean scratched his little butt. With a drowsy, "Okay," he then toddled back to bed. 

       Removing his hand, Methos gave the sobbing seraph a chiding look. "Radha, what were you doing?" 

       Twiddling his fingers guiltily on his lap, the angel shook his head. 

       "Nothing, huh? Come now, Angel. Better come clean." 

       Radhael's violet eyes fell upon the halo lying at their feet. Taking it, he tried pressing the ring of gold to the back of Methos' head again, but the halo dropped to the floor with a loud jangle. Radha couldn't understand why, but the sight of that fallen halo caused great dismay to rise inside his heart. 

       Methos noticed the stricken expression on the angel's face. Picking up the golden ring, he remarked with a nonchalant shrug, "Sorry, Radhael, but I'm afraid I'm not really angel material." 

       When the Old Man attempted to put the halo back on Radha, to Methos' chagrin, the halo fell forward, circling the angel's brow like a ringlet. At once, Radhael blanched. 

       "Now, I know you've been up to something!" Methos cocked an eyebrow up at the angel, who wanted desperately to sink into a hole in the floor. "Radha? Have you been naughty again?" 

       The way the angel pouted, his lush lower lip could've reached the glorious mountains in Calgary. 

       "Oh, Angel! You know I don't want you to get into trouble with Him. Now, be honest! What did you do?" 

       Radhael batted his long eyelashes at the ancient, with his expressive violet eyes begging him not to ask. 

       "Angel?" Methos insisted. "What did you do?" 

       The Immortal's eyes widened in surprise when the angel embraced him tightly and kissed him on the lips. Before Methos could even react, Radha dashed off in a flurry of feathers. 

       Methos sat on the floor in shock. Unconsciously, his right hand went up to his mouth, feeling a warm tingle on his lips. That sweet kiss...it felt so much like one of Duncan's tender caresses. 

       Getting to his feet, the Old Man went after the angel, halo in his hand. Opening the door to Sean's bedroom, he saw Teddy's head peeking out from the covers. Right beneath the bear's chin was an enormous lump. 

       "Good evening, Teddy!" the ancient greeted cheerfully, walking towards the bed. "Why aren't you asleep? Oh, I see. Someone woke you up and he's hiding in here. I wonder where could he be?" 

       Bending over the lump, Methos poked his fingers into the covers, tickling the seraph who was hiding underneath. Radhael's laughter sounded like muffled sleigh bells. Yanking the covers down, the ancient pressed his hands down to tickle the angel even more. What his hands cupped, however, were the delectable, tight mounds of Radha's ass. 

       As Radhael squealed in surprise, Methos quickly withdrew, his face turning crimson in embarrassment. There was a reproachful glare in the angel's eyes as he rubbed his buttocks. Playfully, Methos swatted Radha's rump with the small bolster pillow. "All right, Angel! Time for bed!" 

       Radhael hastened to obey, plopping down in the right position -- head on the pillow, beside Teddy. The ancient pulled the sheets up and tucked it under their chins. As Methos sat down on the bed, for a moment, they stared into each other's eyes, hesitation and fear particularly reflected in the seraph's violet orbs. 

       Tapping the tip of Radhael's nose, Methos remarked, grinning, "You are one very naughty angel, you know that, Radha?" 

       At that comment, a timid smile formed on the angel's lips. 

       There was such a sad, wistful expression on the ancient's eyes as he said, "But please don't do that again. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me." 

       At once, Radhael's lips pursed into a pout. 

       "It's for your own good," said Methos firmly. Holding up the halo, the Old Man gently lifted Radha's head and laid the ring on the soft pillow. "Here. You might lose your symbol of divinity and mischief detector." 

       Raising his chin, Radhael bestowed a sweet peck on the ancient's mouth. 

       There was warm fondness and a hint of mild exasperation on the Immortal's face, as well as deep sorrow. Forcing a weak smile, he repeated, "Radhael, you are a very naughty angel, indeed." Standing, he whispered, "Good night." 

       As the ancient walked towards the door, Radha couldn't resist sending Methos one of his sweet angel kisses. He watched as the pink heart brushed against the Immortal's nape. At that contact, Methos felt a warm breeze and a tingle at the back of his neck. 

       Frowning, Methos glanced back at the angel, who simply giggled mischievously. 

       "Good night, Radhael," the ancient said gently. 

       As Methos closed the door, a name suddenly came to the seraph's mind. Drifting off into peaceful slumber with Teddy in his arms, Radha smile and whispered in the tongue of angel's, _Good night....Methriel. _

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

        "Here you go, Radha! Let's put this on you." 

       The angel's face was contorted in a grimace, hands pressed over his ears, wanting to block out the discordant rock music that was blaring from the stereo component. Like a demented grunge rocker, Sean was bouncing his head up and down, stomping his little feet, as he wailed along to "Teenage Dirt Bag." 

       "Come on, Angel," Methos pleaded, holding up Duncan's shirt. The ancient had sewn large holes in the back to accomodate Radhael's wings. "I don't know how you're managing to keep your robes clean, but it's cold and you need to wear something warmer. Give this a try." 

       Since it was the music that was causing goosebumps to rise on his skin and not the weather, Radha shrugged his robes off. Methos tried his very best not to stare at the lovely vision before him...that is, until Radhael tucked his wings so close to his back that, when he pulled the shirt on, it seemed as if he didn't have any wings at all and that he was just a perfectly ordinary human being. 

       The Old Man scowled darkly as he muttered, "Radha? Why didn't you tell me you could do that?" 

       The angel raised his hands as if saying,  "You didn't ask." 

       Groaning, Methos exclaimed, "And that was Duncan's favorite shirt." 

       Absent-mindedly, Sean commented, "It's not as if Mama's coming back." The child realized his error when his father fell silent. "Papa, I didn't mean to say that. I'm sorry." 

       Tears began to cloud Methos' vision. "No, you're right, Sean. I keep forgetting that your mother's dead. I keep on waiting for him to walk through that door." 

       That same instant, the radio station decided to play a Christmas song. Hearing the steady beat of "The Little Drummer Boy", Methos suddenly turned pale, long forgotten memories dredged up, images that no longer made sense to him. But, still, the pain it invoked was all too real. To make it worse, Radhael was smiling at him, holding up the shirt that was miraculously whole again. Something inside him welled up, urging him to take the angel in his arms -- to hold him tight, make love to him and never let him go. 

       &lt;FORBIDDEN!&gt; a booming voice declared, that stern command causing sharp pain to lance into his rebellious heart. &lt;FORBIDDEN!&gt; 

       &lt;Are you all right, Papa?&gt; Sean's timid mind voice queried. 

       Gripping his temples, Methos cried, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!", and rushed inside the bedroom, slamming the door shut. Leaning his back against the door, the ancient slowly sank down to the floor and curled up in a ball, hands over his ears, wanting to drown out the cacophony of voices. His whole body shook, the desire to revolt nearly overwhelming him. 

       An unbidden thought screamed out, Why? Why is it forbidden to love him? You cannot order me this! For all eternity, my heart will love only him! 

       Methos shuddered all over, tears streaming down his face, as he tried to draw his mind away from those confusing, disturbing visions. What his mind focused on was the beautiful, loving face of his lost beloved. 

       "Damn you, Highlander!" sobbed Methos. "How dare you abandon me like this? God, I'm so confused! These images...I think I'm going crazy! Duncan, you don't know how much I long for you to hold me in your arms. My life is meaningless without you! Who's going to love me now, Duncan? Who's going to love me now?" 

       "PAPA! PAPA!" Sean's grief-stricken cries pierced the fog of depression in his mind. 

       Realizing what he had done to his only child, the Immortal swiftly wiped away his tears and got to his feet. "Sean, it's all right! I'm coming!" 

       When he opened the door, however, a beautiful, soothing voice filled the air. Already, Methos could hear his son's cries dying down. Going to the living room, the ancient listened closely to the song. The tune was very familiar to him. Then, the song itself began to play on the stereo and, this time, he recognized it at once -- "Lucky" by Britney Spears. 

       Methos wanted to laugh. Never in his wild imaginings did he ever expect to meet an angel who's a fan of that mousey-voiced singer. But then, Radhael was not exactly singing the same tune. Though the music was the same, the lyrics were in a long-forgotten tongue, a language that no human being should ever know, at least, at this point in their mortal existence. Methos, however, for some reason, understood it perfectly well -- Do not weep. Do not grieve. Remember the love. Always the love. 

       "If there's nothin' missin' in my life, then why do these tears come at night?" 

       The tears... thought the Immortal as his eyes started to water once more. They come because the love no longer exists. He was taken from me, not once but twice. He and so many others whom I dared to love. How could I love, remember what it's like, when I am condemned to lose it all? 

       Suddenly, the tears were drawn from Methos' green gold orbs by a mysterious force, transforming them into twinkling stars that flew into the living room. 

       Emerging at the end of the small corridor, an astonishing sight greeted the ancient. The living room was alive with dancing lights, floating around the beautiful angel. Radha's hands were clasped together, eyes closed, as he poured his heart into his song. At his feet, Sean was laughing, trying to grab the lights in his small hands. With a wave of his hand, Radhael sent a stream of stars flying in Methos' direction. The lights swirled around the ancient from his toes to his head, enveloping him with soothing love and pure warmth. A tiny pink heart appeared before his eyes and brushed against his lips. That tender contact felt like a kiss. Looking up, Methos saw Radha grant him a mischievous smile and blew him another heart-shaped kiss. 

       Then, the two songs began to merge until there was only one voice and one song, reaching up to the heavens from whence it came. 

       Methos' jaw dropped. Angel song... Every music on Earth originates from the songs of the celestial choirs. Its essence, its heart, its power, however, are lost in the transit from Heaven to the mortal world. Still, a trace of angel's breath remains in the song, if it is summoned by a seraph. But...how do I know all this? 

       The song gradually began to fade, and so too the twinkling lights dimmed. In the split second that Methos' blinked, everything returned to normal. Or was it? 

       For standing before him, alive and well, was Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Dressed in his dark blue shirt, the Highlander was a vision to fill an empty, lonely heart with joy. Duncan was smiling, gazing down fondly at his young son, who was suckling at his breast. 

       "Duncan?" Methos whispered, his hand raised to the images of his lover. 

       But then, the wind blew through the slightly opened window, causing the Scot's waist length hair to billow behind him. At the sight of the golden brown shade of those silky tresses and the fact that the young man before him was not wearing any trousers at all, Methos felt his heart sink in despair. 

       Sensing his distress, the angel started to sing "Little Drummer Boy". Although sung with the softness and slow cadence of a love ballad, Methos could feel its power, forcing him to rise above the grief and the pain. This time, though, the ancient fought back the urge to be comforted, wanting to immerse himself completely in his sorrow. 

       Lost as he was in the struggle to hold back the sensations the angel aroused in him, Methos did not notice Radha approaching him. With a surprised gasp, he found himself staring into violet eyes. Before the ancient could say no, Radhael kissed him tenderly. 

       Green waves filled his mind. &lt;Don't weep. Please. You hurt your son when you cry.&gt; 

       &lt;But how can I stop, Radha?&gt; Methos asked in deep sadness. &lt;How can I stop when all my heart longs for is him?&gt; 

       The timid reply was unexpected. &lt;But...I'm here.&gt; 

       &lt;You're not him. Radha, nothing's permanent on this Earth. When your wing's healed, you'll leave and you too shall hurt Sean with your departure.&gt; 

       &lt;I won't leave...if you ask me to stay.&gt; 

       At the last, Methos broke the kiss. Taking Sean, he muttered, "I won't ask. There can be only one love in my heart and he's Duncan MacLeod." 

       There was great sorrow in Radha's violet eyes as he caressed the ancient's cheek. &lt;Why are you making it so difficult on yourself? Why can't you see what is right before your eyes?&gt; 

       "Because, Radhael, you could never be Duncan. I don't want to make the mistake of giving my heart to you, only to lose you too. I don't think I could bear another loss, and neither could Sean. I could only take so much pain. I'm sorry, Radha." 

       As Methos turned his back to the angel, the Immortal did not see the amber tear trickle down Radhael's cheek. What do I have to do to make you remember, Methriel? How could I make you love me again? 

 

       Winter had covered the vicinity of the cabin with a thick blanket of snow. Even the lake had frozen over. But the cold of winter had not only permeated the area of the cabin but the heart of the ancient as well. 

       Methos was lost in a haze of grief so dark and thick that even Sean could not penetrate it with his mind powers. The Immortal just sat near the window once more, drowning his sorrows with the ever present bottle of Scotch at his feet. 

       In desperation, the child went to the seraph, crying, "Radhael, you must help me! Only you can reach Papa!" 

       But the angel could only shake his head, for even he was at a loss on what to do. Little did Sean know that Radhael's distress was greater compared to the unreachable Immortal. 

       One night, Radha had gone to Methos. Sitting down at the ancient's feet with Teddy in his arms, he laid his head on Methos' lap. The Immortal did not even bother to raise a finger to stroke through his hair. In the end, Radha surrendered himself to loneliness and tears. Seeing the distraught angel sitting before his father, it took considerable effort from Sean to pry Radhael away from the ancient. 

       At that moment, in the child's bedroom, it was Sean who soothed the hurt in the angel's heart. 

       "Radha, please don't cry," Sean sobbed himself, embracing the weeping seraph and Teddy. "Things will turn out all right, you'll see. Papa will snap out of it." 

       As the days wore on, however, there were no signs that Methos would snap out of his despondency. 

       Soon, it was the winter solstice. Oblivious to this important day, the Immortal was at his solitary position near the window. Blind to his surroundings, Methos did not notice Radhael pause at the doorway to gaze at him. 

       Seeing the blankness in the ancient's eyes, the angel bit back his tears and, clutching Teddy and a precious item he had found earlier, headed out into the snow. 

       Minutes later, a soft voice called him, "Papa? Papa, please?" 

       A tiny flame flickered in the corner of his eye. Drawn to that light, Methos turned his head to behold his only child. Sean Richard was carrying a Twinkie on a plate. In the center was a lighted birthday candle. 

       "Sean..." Methos' voice was dry and hoarse from disuse. 

       "It's Mama's birthday, Papa," Sean reminded him. "The winter solstice, remember?" 

       Not knowing what to say, the ancient could only nod as he tried to stifle the sobs rising in his throat. 

       Fearing that his father would sink into depression once more, the little boy hastily stammered, "Papa, I love Mama too! I'm not trying to replace him with Radha. But I need love too, just as much as you, and only Radhael is giving it to me. Am I betraying Mama's memory by accepting his love? To be truthful, I don't know. But... Oh, Papa! Please, I need you! Can't you love me, Papa, so I won't have to look for love from someone else?" 

       Those words pierced the fog inside the ancient's mind. At last, Methos got a very good look at his child. Sean was deathly pale. There were dark hollows around his reddened eyes from the many tearful, sleepless nights. 

       Taking the Twinkie and laying it on the window sill, Methos pulled his son into a fierce embrace. Kissing the child's face over and over again, he sobbed, "Dear God, what did I do to my little boy, and it's your birthday too! Sean, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Can you ever forgive me for neglecting you like this?" 

       Sean's reply echoed his lost lover's words. "I'll always forgive you, Papa, because I love you." 

       Drawing away, Methos laid his fingers on his son's chin and smiled, looking into his dark brown eyes. "You're so like your mother. He always tells me the same thing." 

       The child beamed at that comment. "I'm so glad." There was a brief pause between them. Hesitantly, Sean began, "Papa... About Radha, things have been very hard on him too. He doesn't stop crying. I think you should talk to him." 

       Methos sighed. "What do you want me to say?" 

       "I don't know. Anything. As long as it will make him feel better." 

       "Sean...I, uh...I know you've become very close to Radhael, and I don't blame you. He has filled the void your mother left. But he won't stay with us forever. He's an angel. Radha belongs somewhere else. As it is, he's becoming too attached to this world and, especially to us. You saw for yourself how his halo reacts. If he should succumb to the ways of this mortal world, he may not be able to get back to his real home." 

       "Papa, I understand that Radhael will leave us soon. I don't like it, but I have no choice. But, Papa, I don't want to see him hurting like this. Can't you see? He cares a lot about you. I could feel it. If you ask him to stay with us, I'm certain Radhael will defy the heavens just to be with you. Radha will do anything for you, Papa, because, I think, he loves you very much." 

       Before Methos could reply to that observation, the flame of the candle on the Twinkie was suddenly extinguished. There were strange lights coming from the lake. 

       Peering out the window, Sean asked, "What is it, Papa? A fire?" 

       "No," said the ancient, picking his son up in his arms. "It's Radhael." 

       Father and son ran out of the cabin, heading in the direction of the lake. 

       The lake was awash with a rainbow-hued aura being emitted by the sole figure dancing on its smooth, frozen surface. 

       As if in a trance, Radhael glided over the ice, moving his body in a gentle sway to the sad little tune he was singing. Methos recognized the tune immediately to be Duncan's favorite song -- "Amazing Grace."  Held close to the angel's heart was Teddy and something Methos couldn't make out from where he stood with Sean. 

       Looking on, they saw Radha unfurl his wings to its full length, the bandages falling off. 

       "Papa, his wing!" Sean cried out in alarm at the sight of the anguish on the angel's face. 

       But Radha's broken wing was not Methos' concern. He didn't know why or how, but he could see that the angel was building up energy inside him. The aura that they thought Radhael was emitting was actually being drawn into him. The energy absorption was manifesting itself through the halo on the seraph's head, steadily getting brighter and brighter. 

       "RADHA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" yelled Methos in growing alarm. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW!" 

       The angel, however, would not listen. He began to float into the air, lifted up by the wild energy. His long hair fluttered in the wind, swirling around him. 

       "He's going to get hurt, Papa!" Sean exclaimed, struggling to get down. "Please make him stop!" 

       Putting his son down, the Immortal ordered, "Stay here!" 

       Methos hurried to the bank of the lake, hoping against all hope that he would reach the seraph in time. But then, he dropped to his knees, clutching the sides of his head as his mind was pummeled by stark images -- of a blood red sky, angels fighting. This was followed by a disturbing sensation, as though he were falling into a deep pit. Above him, Methos saw Radhael. The seraph was crying, hand reaching for him. 

       "Methriel!" Radha cried. "Please take me with you!" 

       Suddenly, there was a bright flash, like an explosion. For a moment, the ancient was blinded. But in that brief second between light and darkness, Methos had seen a pink ball of light burst out of the angel's chest and shoot up into the heavens. 

       "RADHA! RADHA!" he heard his son scream. 

       Immortal healing kicking in, Methos was horrified to see the angel dropping slowly to the ice like a falling leaf. Sliding across the ice, he caught Radhael in his arms. The bear lay unscathed on his chest. But as Radha's right arm fell limply to his side, the other thing he held close to his heart clattered onto the ice. Methos gasped, seeing what it was. 

       In his surprise, Methos did not sense his son's approach, until Sean stumbled at his feet. 

       "Radha? Radhael!" Sean tapped the seraph's cheeks lightly. Radha was so pale, his cheeks so cold. "Papa, is he hurt? What happened to him? Please, Papa, don't tell me that he's..." 

       "We must get him back to the cabin. Come on, son." 

       Sean simply nodded as he helped his father up. Making their way through the ice, it was then that the child noticed the thing that had fallen out of the angel's hand. Sean bent down to pick it up, wiping the glass of the picture frame with his jacket sleeve. The moisture gone, the face of his mother -- Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod -- smiled up at him. 

       "Sean, hurry up!" his father called out ahead of him. 

       Tucking his mother's picture inside his jacket, Sean hurried after the ancient. 

 

       "Radha, don't die! Please don't die!" 

       Three days had passed since the winter solstice and Radhael still lay in a kind of coma. Sean patiently wiped the angel's brow with a cool, moistened cloth, talking to him, begging him to wake up. But the seraph's eyelids remained shut, his brow knitted in a frown. 

       Now, it's Christmas Eve and both father and son feared that Radha wouldn't make it. There was such poignant desperation in the child's pleas as he tried to shake the angel back to wakefulness. 

       Laying a hand on his son's shoulders, Methos said, "It's time for bed, Sean. I'll take care of Radha." 

       Sean embraced his father, the tears falling down his cheeks. "Papa, I know you can wake him up. Please, Papa!" 

       The ancient shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what I can do." 

       "I won't ask for anything this Christmas - no toys, no computer games..." insisted Sean. "I just want Radha back!" 

       Though totally at a loss, Methos nodded, giving his child a reassuring smile. "I'll try my best. But you must be prepared for the worst." 

       The little boy gazed firmly into his father's green gold eyes. "I have faith in you, Papa. I know you can do it." 

       Saying this, Sean went outside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. With the child gone, Methos pulled the chair beside the bed. 

       Wiping the angel's fevered cheeks with the washcloth, the ancient remarked, "What the hell were you doing out there, Radha? What was that light? Did you think I would appreciate this sacrifice you made? That's what it was, wasn't it -- a sacrifice! But for what? Damn  it, Angel! Have you no idea what your loss could do to Sean? He lost his mother. Will he have to lose you too? Do I have to lose you?" 

       Methos breathed in deeply, a pout pursing his lips. "Yes, I admit it," he nodded, his eyes glistening with tears. "I've grown to care about you as well. An inevitable thing, since we do seem to be bonded in some strange way. I wish I could say that my depth of feeling for you is the same as my love for Duncan. But I won't deny that I do care about you." As the tears began to fall, Methos tucked the covers under the angel's chin. The ancient even placed the ever-vigilant Teddy beside him. "If you care about us, you'll wake up. Radha, I beg you. You must fight back! You must return to us!" 

       Seeing those full lips, Methos abided an irresistible urge that's been lingering inside his heart. Sitting on the edge of the bed, the ancient gave Radhael a loving kiss. At that meeting of their lips, he dissolved into a weeping fit. Methos lay down beside the angel, hugging him tight. 

       "Please, Radha!" the Immortal cried, begging. "Please come back to us!" 

       Methos surrendered to his sorrow. Heartsick and weary, eventually, the ancient fell into restless slumber. Two hours later, he awoke to find tearful violet eyes looking at him. 

       "Radha..." The Immortal started to full wakefulness. "Radhael, thank God you're awake! How are you feeling? I'm going to get Sean and..." 

       Before he could fetch his son, Radhael held his hand, refusing to let it go. 

       "Angel, what is it? Do you want me to get you something?" 

       Radha weakly shook his head. He opened his mouth, wanting to speak. In frustration, he shook his head again. 

       "Is there something you want to tell me?" Methos clasped the seraph's hand. "Don't be afraid. If you like, we could do it mind to mind." 

       "N...n...no." 

       Although he had spoken only one word, the ancient could sense the despair in the seraph. Running his long, slender fingers through the angel's silken locks, Methos whispered, "You're still very weak. Why don't you get some rest and we could talk tomorrow?" 

       "No." 

       "Radha..." 

       The angel bit his lower lip. With great difficulty, he began, "I...I...ca...I came back..." 

       "Yes, I know and I'm glad you returned to us." 

       "NO!" That sharp retort caused Methos to fall silent. Radhael slowly continued, "I came back...because...because of you. I...I...heard...you. You...you said...you care...about me." 

       Methos nodded. "Yes, you heard right. I do care about you." 

       "Do...do you...do you love me?" 

       The Immortal couldn't reply at that query. 

       "I...I looked...all over...for you...Methriel." 

       "Radha, my name is not Methriel." 

       "Because you...do not...remember. But I...never forgot...about you. You're always..." The seraph pointed to his heart. "...In here." 

       Methos stood up abruptly, releasing the angel's hand. "This is all very confusing for me. Those images you've showed me... They seem so familiar to me, but I don't understand any of it." 

       An amber tear flowed from Radhael's right eye. "My poor Methriel! All heartache...all pain...so afraid...to love." 

       "Wouldn't you be afraid?" the Immortal snapped back. "Everyone I love was taken from me. Alexa, Duncan..." 

       "I know...how you feel...I understand...more than you think. I've had love...taken...from me. Not once...TWICE! But...I never gave up...never lost hope. I found you." 

       "Radha, I'm not the person you think I am!" 

       "I KNOW YOU! My heart NEVER forgets!" 

       "It seems, however, that mine has." 

       A heavy pall of silence fell between the two men. Methos couldn't bear to look at the angel. 

       "Methriel..." The name came out as a soft sob. "Methos?" 

       "What is it?" Methos asked without looking at the figure on the bed. 

       "I...I would...like to ask...a simple favor." 

       "What do you want?" 

       "Love me." 

       Hearing those two words, the ancient turned around to stare incredulously at the angel. "You don't know what you're saying. I don't want to displease Him." 

       Radhael let out a wry little laugh. "At least, you remember...His anger. That's...a start." 

       "I don't want Him to hurt you, Angel." 

       "He only has...my best interests...in mind. But...I cannot...help my heart. No longer am I...innocent. Like you said...nothing is...permanent. I will take...full responsibility...for my actions." 

       "Radhael, we musn't!" 

       "Just one night...in your arms...in this bed. After this, I swear..." The angel could not finish what he was going to say, giving a rebellious shake of his head - as if this unspoken promise was something he truly did not want to make, but had no other choice. Radhael raised a pleading hand to the ancient. "I beg you, Methos! For the...little love...that you feel...for me, can you not do this...for a heart who has searched for you...for oh so long?" 

       For a moment, Methos hesitated. As he gazed into those begging violet eyes, he knew he could not deny the angel this, neither could he ignore the siren call of his aching heart. But a powerful voice inside him was telling him not to do this -- that it would only lead to pain and terrible punishment. 

       There was, however, another option -- to put a stop to this cycle of desire and lunacy once and for all. To end it here and now. Methos' heart warred against it. So he fiercely stomped that mild-mannered Watcher into silence and allowed his dark persona to come to the fore. 

       Radhael immediately detected the change in the ancient. Shaking his head, he whispered in growing dismay, "No...Methriel..." 

       The Immortal's mouth was set in a thin, firm line. Before the angel could withdraw, the ancient grabbed his wrist, his fingers tightening painfully around it. 

       "My name is not Methriel," announced Methos grimly, as he took a step towards the cringing figure on the bed. "I am Death. Always remember that." 

 

       Sean sat up abruptly in his bed, hearing a scream. Fraught with anguish and agony, that mind cry caused a shiver to run up his spine. 

       Cautiously, the child reached out with his telepathic powers. But then, he quickly withdrew, a smile quirking up his lips. He knew what his father and the angel were doing. The aura was unmistakable -- that, and the waves of pure love pouring out from the two of them. 

       Lying back down on his bed, Sean returned to happy slumber, already anticipating the bright future that union would bring. 

       "Thank you, Santa!" the little boy mumbled in relief. 

 

       It was an hour before sunrise. Radhael was standing before the mirror, gazing at his reflection. His eyes were red with the tears that still continued to flow down his cheeks, but no longer as golden streaks. The angel's full lips were bruised and swollen. Dark bruises marked his wrists. Strangely, his once pristine robes were now stained with his blood that had flowed copiously from between his legs. Slight movement caused pain to shoot through his lower abdomen. 

       Radha wondered if this was how it felt to be mortal. 

       Clutching his aching belly, the seraph gripped the edge of the dresser, his fingers brushing against the halo lying on top. Eyes widening in shock, he lifted the ring up. No longer was it a rich golden color, nor did it shine. Now, it was the dark shade of tarnished copper. 

       Radhael knew what this meant. He had seen this happen before -- after the Fall. Some of the disgraced angels had returned to Heaven, begging for forgiveness. Their halos all had this same sickly red sheen. Radha remembered they had not been forgiven. 

       Sighing, the seraph slid the lowest drawer open and buried his tarnished halo deep within the mess of old clothes. He would not beg for forgiveness. He had sinned grievously and far too many times. This time, the Gates of Heaven would be closed to him. 

       Reluctantly, Radha gazed down at the slumbering Immortal who had caused his downfall. A tear fell unbidden from the ancient's eye. Even in sleep, he could not hide his remorse. 

       Why, Methriel? Why? But then, the seraph knew the reason. The Immortal was afraid to love, and this was the only way he knew to drive him from his life. A man can only take so much loss after all. The Highlander's death was the last straw for him. 

       Leaning down, Radhael pressed his lips to the ancient's, and at once his body was wracked by sobs. I understand, Methriel. Although you have hurt me, I understand. And, yes, I do forgive you. 

       Brushing a loose strand of hair from the Immortal's face, the seraphim eased up to a standing position and slowly limped out of the bedroom, heading for Sean's room. 

       The child was in deep sleep that he did not feel the angel pick him up and cradle him in his arms, rocking him back and forth. Radha wept bitterly, kissing Sean's brow over and over again. 

       &lt;You know, you really don't have to leave,&gt; someone suddenly commented from the doorway. 

       Whirling around, the seraph saw a displeased Teddy standing near the door, his stubby paws placed on his waist. 

       Laying Sean back down on his bed, Radha wearily replied, &lt;I don't think I have any other choice. This is not, and could never be, my home, especially now that's he's...&gt; 

       &lt;But where will you go, little angel?&gt; the bear asked in concern. &lt;You no longer have a home. Perhaps you could try and merge with...&gt; 

       &lt;What I do with my life is my concern. I can manage.&gt; 

       &lt;No, you could not. You've led a very sheltered life, even when you were still a part of him. Radhael, no. I cannot allow this. It's Christmas. I possess some magic inside me. I'll wake up my masters.&gt; 

       &lt;You shall do nothing, kind guardian.&gt; Radha gently touched the tip of Teddy's nose and immediately the bear was frozen in his usual sitting position. 

       Seeing the angel heading for the front door, the toy practically screamed, &lt;No! Radhael, you must not go!&gt; 

       Instead, the seraph looked back at him and smiled wearily. &lt;Take care of them, little guardian. I place their welfare in your hands.&gt; 

       Opening the door, snow swirled around him. To Teddy's shock, he could see that the angel's wings were slowly losing solidity. 

       &lt;Radhael, your wings!&gt; the bear cried in alarm. &lt;They're fading away!&gt; 

       But the seraphim did not heed Teddy's cries. Despite the dangers to his own life, Radhael soared into the sky, swiftly disappearing into the mountains. 

       Sitting helpless on the floor, for the second time in his long life, Teddy shed a crystal tear -- this time, for the strange, but loving, being who had now departed from their lives forever. 

       "RADHA? RADHA, WHERE ARE YOU? RADHA!" 

       The frantic cries of his son Sean woke Methos. His hand groped for the other side of the bed, only to discover an empty space. Remembering what he had done to the poor angel, the Old Man quickly got out of bed and put on his clothes. 

       The ancient was immediately confronted in the hallway by Sean. "Papa, where's Radha? Is he with you? I...uh...felt you two last night." 

       Knowing that his son would read his thoughts, Methos blocked his mind. Still, not trusting his own voice, he just shook his head. 

       Sean felt his heart sink. "If he's not with you... Oh, Papa! I've looked everywhere for him! Where could he be? And he's still sick!" 

       "Maybe he went outside," Methos feebly suggested. "He could be at the lake right now." 

       Sean yanked on his father's arm. "Come on, Papa! Let's go see!" 

       Father and son hurried to the lake. Though they scoured the banks, the seraph was nowhere to be found. 

       Methos felt Sean's fierce grip on his hand loosen abruptly. Turning, he saw that his son had plopped down on the snow, staring out into the lake. 

       "I don't understand," Sean wept, hugging his little legs close to his body. 

       The ancient laid a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "Didn't I tell you that Radha won't be staying with us long? It's probably time for him to leave." 

       "Yes, I know that," argued Sean, "but I know he won't go without saying goodbye. Radha loves us very much." 

       "Maybe the reason why he didn't say goodbye is because he didn't want to see you cry when he leaves. Radhael is an empath. He doesn't want to see either of us hurting." 

       The child frowned, shaking his head. "No, that's not it. There's another reason why Radha left the way he did." Sean looked at his father with suspicion. "Did something happen last night, Papa?" 

       Methos was at a total loss for words, unsure whether he should tell Sean the truth or not - that it was he who had driven the angel away. To his relief, the beeping sound of a car horn broke the silence of the lake. 

       "Looks like we have a visitor." Raising his hand to his son, the Immortal said, "We'll talk about this later. Now, wipe away your tears, Sean. Come on! Let's see who it is." 

       Sean quickly obeyed his father, allowing his elder to help him to his feet. Trudging through the snow, they headed back to the cabin. 

       As they emerged from the forest, they were greeted by a very familiar Range Rover parked before the cabin. Leaning against the hood was the Watcher they both know and love. 

       "Uncle Joe! Uncle Joe!" Sean cried happily, as he ran towards his favorite uncle. 

       In his joy to see him, the child wrapped his arms around Joe's legs, nearly sending the Watcher falling to the ground if he had not found purchase on the jeep behind him. 

       Joe Dawson gave the tyke a bear hug. "Well, if it isn't my favorite nephew!" The Watcher eyed the approaching Immortal. "Not to mention his smart-mouthed father." 

       "Nice to see you too, you old grunt," Methos greeted his dear old friend wryly. "It's been quite some time, Joe." 

       The Watcher nodded. "Yeah. How're you two doing?" 

       "Fine," replied Methos. "Considering that..." 

       Uncomfortable silence fell between the two men. 

       Noting their unease, Sean piped in, "Uncle Joe, you won't believe what happened to us!" 

       Before the child, however, could continue, the Immortal interrupted, "What brings you out here, Joe? I know it's Christmas and all, but isn't this way off the beaten track for you?" 

       "I had to come." A broad smile formed on the grizzled Vietnam vet's face. Running his fingers fondly through Sean's tousled ebony locks, he said cryptically, "I have a Christmas gift for the two of you." 

       "What is it, Uncle Joe?" Sean asked eagerly. "May I peek?" 

       "No, not yet! Why don't you go stand over there with your father? I want both of you to see what I've brought for you." 

       Though the suspense was killing him, the little boy did what his uncle said. There was a similar perplexed expression on Methos' face as he laid his hands on his son's shoulders. 

       Joe limped towards the backseat of the Range Rover and opened the door. At once, the aura of Immortal presence washed over him. Beneath the door, father and son saw booted feet stepping onto the ground. For awhile, the features of the Watcher's mysterious passenger was obscured by the frost on the glass. 

       Then, Joe slammed the door shut. 

       Both Methos and Sean stood in shock and disbelief, beholding at last the Watcher's passenger, someone they never expected to see ever again - that tall, graceful form clothed in that familiar black duster, waist-length dark brown locks fluttering in the gentle breeze, that achingly beautiful face with its liquid chocolate brown eyes and full lips. The only unique item on his person was the black leather collar around his neck. 

       Then, a warm smile formed on the man's lips, and the emotions father and son were trying to control inside them suddenly burst forth. 

       With a happy cry, Sean broke into a run. Methos was laughing in immense relief as he followed after his son. 

       The man had already swept the little boy into his arms, showering the child's face with kisses. Noticing the ancient approaching out of the corner of his eye, he raised a hand to him. 

       Instead, Methos flung his arms around the man, embracing him tightly, relishing the familiar scent of mountain heather and coffee on his skin. 

       "Oh, Duncan!" Methos whispered, kissing his lover on the lips. "My dear Highlander! He brought you back to us! Thank God he brought you back to us!" 


	5. Chapter 5

 

** CHAPTER FIVE **

 

        Everything has finally gotten back to normal. Though the Watcher had been cryptic about the Scot's resurrection, Methos was very relieved that Duncan had returned to them. Not wanting to stay at the cabin any longer, they had gone home to the loft in Seacouver, where they returned to the routine of their lives. Soon enough, Sean Richard was at his computer once more, preoccupied with the world and worldly matters. It seemed as if that winter at the cabin had been just a dream. 

       Yes, everything was back to normal. Or was it...really? 

       When spring came to Seacouver, Methos observed that there was something different about the Highlander. 

       Sean had gone to his mother, begging to be nursed. 

       There was an odd expression on Duncan's face as he looked at the little boy, whose arms were raised eagerly to him. 

       "Not any more, Sean," the Scot had answered brusquely. "You're five years old. It's about time I weaned you." 

       Although resentful at his mother's rejection, Sean kept his silence. 

       But then, whether he wanted to or not, Duncan's chest continued to fill with milk. When he gets frustrated with the breast pump, which he hurls into the corner of the room, he gives in to Sean's pleas and allows the child to feed on him albeit half-heartedly. 

       It was after one such feeding that Sean had gone to Methos, confusion apparent in his eyes. 

       When he asked what was wrong, his son answered, "It's Mama. I...I don't understand him now, and there's something..." 

       Methos frowned. "What is it, Sean? Go on tell me. I won't tell your mother." 

       "His milk..." said Sean, truly perplexed. "I know it's Mama by the taste of his milk. But there's something missing. Like he's not the same person. Mama...he's so distant, so cold." 

       Yes, cold. As ice. Methos was forced to agree with that assessment. 

       There was once a time when the Highlander shied away from any confrontations with other Immortals. Now, he stalked his prey with calculating ruthlessness. 

       "Richie had been right, Methos," Duncan had told him one night after he had taken a head. "Get them before they get you." 

       "You used to try to understand your adversary first," the ancient had reminded his lover. "His motives, his pains. Remember Keene?" 

       The Scot had shaken his head, running his fingers unconsciously over the leather collar around his neck. "Not anymore. No one is ever going to take my head again." 

       That leather collar... Strange how his eyes always focused on that black band whenever they made love, which was more frequent than usual. Not that he was complaining. Methos had missed the feel of the Highlander's silky skin, the apple scent of his tresses, and the overwhelming heat of his inner depths. 

       The ancient, however, needed a focus. For though they writhed and moaned in the intricacies of a heated coupling, it was just sex. Worse, it was like making love to a corpse. All passion and warmth gone, just a simple tangling of limbs and joining of sexual parts. It left him wanting for more. Soon, even Methos got tired of sex, which, ironically, suited Duncan just fine. 

       But as the days turned into months, with the changing of the seasons, it seemed the Highlander was growing tired of his family as well. 

       Methos couldn't recall when the arguments started, but it was always over the littlest thing. The usually patient Scot would explode like a volcano. Although he could counter Duncan's outbursts with mild sarcastic quips, Sean could never manage to control his temper. The arguments between mother and son were fierce, neither one giving an inch. Often, he would intervene before things got out of hand. Methos, however, feared that the boiling point would soon be reached. 

       One autumn evening, Sean was at his computer once more, avidly eyeing the amorous goings-on in his favorite porn site. The Old Man had tried to dissuade his son from visiting those websites, knowing that it was this, more than anything else, that caused Duncan to blow his stack. 

       Before Methos could persuade Sean to turn off his computer, the Highlander's grim form stormed through the door. 

       "Is he surfing through those dirty websites again?" Duncan asked ominously. 

       Stalking towards the boy, the Highlander yanked the cord from the power socket. Before Sean could stop him, Duncan swept the monitor off the table that it shattered to the floor in thousands of sparking bits. He then grabbed the CPU and, heading for the window, hurled it down into the alley below. 

       Sean was screaming with rage as he pummeled his mother with his fists. *"I hate you! I hate you!"* In his anger, the child's powers began to manifest. The objects on the shelves and even the bed were rattling furiously. 

       To Methos' horror, the Scot put an abrupt stop to it by hitting the boy, sending him flying backwards that he hit the door hard. Swiftly, the ancient went to aid his son, cradling Sean protectively in his arms. 

       "Damn it, MacLeod!" Methos roared. "This time you've gone too far! How dare you do this to our son?"  
         Pointing his finger at the child, Duncan bellowed, "This little pervert is NOT my son! You hate me? YOU hate ME? You don't know how much I hate YOU for doing this to ME! Because of you, a fucking Immortal cut off my head! Because of you, I died! BECAUSE OF YOU, I BECAME A FREAK!"  
       Then, the Highlander tore off the collar from his throat. 

       Methos' eyes were wide with shock. A fresh, angry wound, obviously created by a sword's sharp edge, encircled Duncan's neck. What horrified him even more was the sight of those large hooks and pieces of industrial staple wire, gleaming with the energy of the Quickening that seeped from that wound. Methos realized, that like the Kurgan, those pieces of metal were the only things keeping the Highlander's head attached to the rest of his body. 

       In his shock, the ancient barely heard Sean screaming in terror. The frightened boy suddenly pulled free from his grasp and fled from the loft. 

       "SEAN!" Methos cried as he got up to run after his son. 

       "Let him go!" he heard the Scot say behind him. "We don't need him!" 

       Methos stared at Duncan in disbelief. "Good God! Duncan, he is your son! Don't you even give a damn about what happens to him? Don't you care?" 

       "I don't feel anything, Methos," answered Duncan, helplessly raising his right hand he had struck his son with. "Except the anger. I look at myself in the mirror and I couldn't shed a single tear for the monster that I had become. I'm dead, Methos. Dead." 

       The ancient shook his head, stunned by the nightmare their lives had suddenly become. As he hurried out the loft, Methos swore to himself he would have a good long talk with Joe Dawson. But, first, he had to find Sean. 

 

       Although his mind was blinded by horror and panic, it seemed Sean's little feet shared his father's decision. After a long run through the evening streets of Seacouver, the child just found himself standing before Joe's. 

       As he cautiously entered the Watcher's modest establishment, Frank the bartender immediately noted Sean's arrival. 

       "Hey, Sean!" Frank waved to the boy, who toddled over to the bar. The bartender readily let him inside. "What are you doing here? Is Adam or Mac with you?" As the child neared the light, he frowned, seeing the bruise on Sean's cheek. "What happened to you?" 

       Sean covered the bruise with his hand. "I fell on my face on my way over here. Is Uncle Joe here?" 

       The bartender wanted to pry, but something in the boy's eyes - an almost haunted expression - made him decide not to. "It's his night off. Sorry." 

       "Oh." The disappointment in Sean's voice was very apparent. 

       "I could call him if you like." 

       The boy quickly shook his head. "No, it's all right. I'll just talk to him tomorrow." 

       Frank gave Sean a meaningful glance. "You came here all alone, didn't you? Why don't you tell me? Maybe I can help." 

       Instead of replying, the child let his eyes roam around the bar, and at the particularly dirty people who suddenly seemed to have a run of the place. "Who are all these people, Uncle Frank?" 

       "The city's homeless. Your Uncle Joe figured it would be a good idea to give something back to the community. Since there are a lot of homeless folk around this area, he thought of opening the doors to this place and give them good food, drinks and music - give them a chance to experience the finer things in life at least once a month." 

       "You call that good music?" Sean grimaced, hearing the gravelly voice of a wino singing "The Great Pretender", with Joe's Blues band as backup. 

       "Hey, what can I do?" Frank shrugged helplessly. "Anyway, it cheers everyone up. Joe is thinking of having a Karaoke night." 

       It was then that Sean felt a prickly sensation at the back of his neck, as though someone were watching him. Looking through the crowd, sure enough, he caught the gaze of the person standing in a shadowy corner near the stage. He tried to probe the person's mind, but his attempts were strangely blocked. 

       Emerging from the shadows, Sean's observer was revealed to be a tall, young woman. On her head, she wore a frayed, knitted fisherman's cap, her long brown hair filthy and matted. She was clad in a thick, flannel coat and worn trousers, old workman's boots on her feet. Her face was obscured from view by the long scarf wrapped around her neck. It dismayed Sean to see that the woman was pregnant. 

       Nudging the bartender's arm, Sean queried, "Uncle Frank? That lady...who is she?" 

       Frank turned in the direction the child pointed at. "Oh, her? Actually, we don't know who she is. Joe found her roaming the streets, crying, a few months ago. Pretty little thing. I think she's born dumb or something. Hasn't said a single word since she got here." "She's pregnant." 

       The bartender clucked his tongue. "Yeah! Joe figured she may have been raped. Your uncle couldn't find it in his heart to turn her away, so he let her stay in the basement. We offered her the use of the facilities here, but she's either very shy or I guess she doesn't understand a word we're saying." 

       "Do you know her name?" 

       "Nope, but Joe calls her 'Annie'. I think she likes it." 

       "Annie..." whispered Sean. As he gazed at the woman once more, he saw that she had taken a few steps toward him, a trembling hand raised to him. For a moment, Sean thought that Annie would actually embrace him. But the woman stepped back, casting her eyes down, as she shook her head. The child couldn't understand why her sudden withdrawal dismayed him. 

       However, as the wino stepped away from the mic, to the surprise of Sean and Frank, Annie went up the stage. The woman made a few gestures to the musicians. Seeing that she was not understood, she whispered something in the guitarist's ear, who nodded and spoke to his bandmates. At once, the band launched into a rousing rock beat. Annie cried out, clamping her hands over her ears. Turning to the musicians once more, she motioned for them to mellow it down. Though confused, the band did as Annie requested and started to play once more. 

       The song sounded very familiar to Sean, but he was having difficulty figuring out what it was. The child knew that the tune was not meant to be played in that slow, rather sinuous, beat. Then, Annie opened her mouth to sing and Sean paled, realizing he was listening to "Teenage Dirt Bag." At first, the child was stunned. However, Annie's beautiful voice began to penetrate his mind. He could hear the tune, but the song was different. No, thought Sean, being transformed into something else. The song spoke of acceptance, love and hope - a healing anthem for the lonely. Sean could feel its power washing over everyone in the room. Even Frank wiped away the tear that fell from his eye. 

       As Sean looked on, Annie began to stomp her feet and bounce her head - mimicking movements that were once performed by a little boy in a cabin by the lake. 

       I missed you, Sean. 

       "RADHAEL!" Sean gasped in shock. 

       Reaching out with his mind powers, the glamour surrounding the woman just fell apart at his mental touch. Sean's eyes were as wide as saucers beholding the seraph's haggard, yet still very handsome, face. The child peered harder, willing his mind to see through the angel's thick coat. Seeing the small, almost undiscernible roundness in Radha's lower body, Sean's jaw dropped, stunned by what that paunch meant. 

       Realizing that his cover had been blown, Radhael leaped from the stage and quickly exited out the front door. 

       "No! Wait!" shouted Sean, ignoring Frank's calls, as he pushed his way through the crowd. 

       Emerging into the parking lot, Sean ran right smack into Methos' embrace. 

       "Sean! Thank God I found you!" exclaimed the ancient in relief, giving his son a fierce bear hug. Methos granted Frank, who stood at the door, a quick nod. The bartender simply waved and went back inside. "Do you know you scared me half to death? I was worried sick about you. I'm glad I followed my hunch that I might find you here." 

       "Papa! Papa!" Sean hastily interrupted his father. "He's here! I saw him!" 

       "Who's here?" Methos queried. "Who did you see?" "Radhael! He disguised himself as a woman. Uncle Joe found him wandering the streets among the homeless. But when he sang, I saw through his disguise easily." "Son, it's probably just your imagination. I know this has been a terrible night for you." 

       "Papa, I swear it was Radha!" 

       "If it was Radhael, where is he now?" 

       Sean shook his head. "I don't know. He just disappeared. Oh, Papa! You should have seen him. He looked terrible!" 

       "Sean," put in Methos, "it's very late. We must be getting home. Your mother is probably worried about us." 

       "No, I'm not going back!" the child retorted. "Mama doesn't care about us!" 

       "You know that's not true. This...change... I'll be talking to your Uncle Joe about it tomorrow." 

       "Please don't make me go back, Papa!" Sean begged. "He hates me! He'll hurt me again!" 

       "Your mother won't hurt you if you just obey him." Methos said firmly, "I swear he won't lay a hand on you ever again." 

       Tears started to stream down Sean's cheeks. "Papa, I'm afraid of him! Radha was more like Mama to me." 

       "Things will change, son. I promise you that." Draping a comforting arm over Sean's shoulders, he urged, "Come now! Let's go home." 

       As father and son began to walk away, the child timidly suggested, "We must look for Radhael, Papa. I wasn't lying about the fact that he looked awful. He didn't appear well to me at all." 

       "Why do you say that? Radha's an angel, remember? How could something bad happen to him?" 

       "That's just it!" insisted Sean. "I don't think he's an angel anymore. His halo's gone and, when he ran out of Joe's, he doesn't have any wings." 

       Methos fell silent, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. The absence of wings and especially that halo... Why did it sound so terrible to him? 

       Sean eyed his father cautiously. Hesitantly, he whispered, "There's something else." 

       The ancient slowly looked at his son, dread suddenly filling his entire being. What Sean said next stunned him. With this startling revelation, he knew he had no choice but to find the missing seraph. 

       "Are angels of two genders, Papa?" his little boy had asked. "Are there boy angels and girl angels? Or are they hermaphrodites?" 

       "Sean, why are you asking me that?" Methos had queried in turn. 

       "It's Radha. I'm not sure exactly. But...Papa, I think he's pregnant." 

  
       From behind a parked sedan, tearful violet eyes watched as father and son left the parking lot. 

       "Please don't make me go back!" Radhael had heard Sean beg. "He hates me! He'll hurt me again!"  
         As he slowly got to his feet, the angel unconsciously looked down at his hand. Radha was shocked to see the dark bruise at the back of his hand. With an anguished cry, the seraph wiped his hand on his coat hard, hoping to remove that tell-tale sign of inflicted abuse. When he found that the mark couldn't be removed, Radhael burst into tears for that hurt little boy whom he loved with all his heart. 

       "I'm afraid of him, Papa," Sean had said. "Radha was more like Mama to me."  
       Radhael shook his head in despair. Somehow, he had made a grievous error. This wasn't supposed to happen at all. Now, it was Sean, and perhaps Methos too, who were paying the price for what he had done. He knew he must try to rectify his mistake before something worse happens to the two people he loved the most. 

       With this firm resolve made, swiftly but quietly and under the cover of night, the seraph hurried after Methos and Sean. 

  
       A week passed before Methos caught up with Joe. The Watcher had to be sent on official business to the Paris Headquarters. When he returned at last, Methos did not waste any more time and headed straight to his friend's home. Now, sitting in Joe's living room, the Immortal could readily sense that this was the one confrontation the Watcher wanted to avoid the most. 

       "I want to know what happened to Mac, Joe," Methos went straight to the point. 

       "What about it?" asked Joe in turn, pouring two shots of whiskey for him and his friend. 

       "Mac died, didn't he? Marco Desiderio took his head. Duncan showed us the wound on his neck. Hell, he practically scared the living shit out of Sean. Duncan MacLeod is not supposed to be alive right now. I want to know what you did, and I do mean everything." 

       Joe drank his whiskey in one go and slammed the glass on the table. "Let me show you something." 

       Although usually very patient, Methos wanted to scream at the Watcher to hurry up, that they still had a lot to talk about. But then, Joe emerged from his bedroom and the sight of the thing the Watcher held in his hands shocked him to the very core of his being. Despite the absence of its usual luster and the thrum of power of its inner light, Methos recognized it immediately. 

       "The Methuselah Stone!" the ancient gasped out, sagging into his seat as though his body has become too heavy to carry. 

       In reply, Joe wearily nodded his head. Carefully, he placed the crystal on the table between them and refilled his glass with whiskey. "My people in Paris found it along the banks of the Seine, in a forest in the outskirts of the city. I decided to bring it here so our scientists could study it -- to find out if the legends were true." 

       "That it could give eternal life," added Methos. 

       "Yeah. I was on my way back to the bar when I got a call from my relief guy. Jake Porter told me that Mac was in the park, fighting an Immortal named Marco Desiderio." Joe took a long swig of his whiskey. "He said that Mac was losing." 

       "When I arrived at the park," Joe's voice trembled as he continued, "Mac...he was on his hands and knees. I saw Marco take his head." 

       Methos' lips were set in a thin line, hearing his worst fears confirmed. 

       "I don't know exactly what happened next. Everything happened so fast. All I remember clearly was that I was very, very angry. I just found myself picking up Mac's sword and I whacked the head of that son of a bitch!" 

       The ancient stared at the Watcher in shock. 

       "You took an Immortal's head in the middle of a Quickening?" Methos blurted out. "Joe, you could've been killed!" 

       "I didn't care!" retorted Joe. "All I wanted was to get even! Without Mac, my life is meaningless! But then, there was something..." "What is it, Joe?" 

       "Before I took Marco's head, I noticed that the guy was in great pain, as if he was having trouble absorbing Mac's Quickening. It's as if Duncan's Quickening was fighting back. 

       "Then, everything just went haywire. Lightning crashed everywhere. The air was practically crackling with energy. With nowhere to go, the Quickening just hovered above Mac and Marco's dead bodies like a storm cloud. It was then that I remembered the Methuselah Stone in my car." 

       Joe laughed wryly. "For a cripple, I was pretty fast. Anyway, I brought the crystal back. Just as I stepped inside the energy field, the Methuselah Stone began absorbing it. Soon, it was like I was holding the sun in my hands. It was shining so bright. I held the crystal before Mac's body and the energy started pouring into him. 

       "Oh, you should have seen it, Methos! The head just attached itself to his body, that fatal wound healing before my eyes. Even the color of Mac's cheeks was getting back to normal. Then...it just happened." 

       Methos was clinging tightly to the edge of his seat. "Joe, what happened? Please tell me!" 

       "Like I said," the Watcher resumed his narration, "the crystal was directing the energy into Mac until there was only a tiny spark left, like a pink twinkling star. It tried to enter Mac's body, not once but several times. But it looked like Mac was rejecting that little light. On the last attempt, it was pushed back with such force that it went right through the opposite side of the crystal. For a moment, I thought I saw it change... Then, it just took off into the sky and vanished. 

       "When it was gone, Jake came. Together, we carried Mac's body inside my car and brought it to Watchers HQ here in the city. We waited for weeks for Duncan to wake up." 

       "Why didn't you tell me this, Joe?" asked Methos. "Duncan's alive and you made me believe he's dead. You don't know the hell you put Sean and I through!" 

       "Would you have wanted to see him the way he was down in the basement?" Joe countered. "When his body rejected that last bit of energy, the wound on his neck would not heal! I had to have one of our surgeons put hooks and staple wire to keep his head attached to the rest of his body. Damn it, Methos! He looked like the Kurgan!" 

       "You still should have told me! I could've done something!" "Would you have wanted Sean to see him like that?" Methos fell silent at that remark. He clearly remembered the horror on his son's face when Duncan had ripped off his collar to show them the wound around his neck. 

       "I didn't want to raise your hopes," Joe put in softly. "We didn't think he would survive." 

       "But he did. Duncan survived." 

       "Yes. It was during the winter solstice. There was a lightning storm. I don't know how it happened or how it managed to get down in the basement, but Duncan's body was struck by lightning. In a few hours, Mac woke up." 

       Methos blanched, recalling a scene by the lake involving a brave angel. Before Radhael had collapsed, a ball of light had burst out from the seraph's chest and disappeared into the sky. 

       Suddenly, something Joe said earlier came back to him. "Joe, that spark, that tiny pink light Duncan's body rejected...you said it changed. What did it change into?" 

       "I can't say for certain," the Watcher replied uncomfortably, shaking his head. "It was probably a trick of the light. After all, lightning was streaking all over the place." 

       "WHAT DID IT LOOK LIKE, JOE?" 

       Joe was taken aback by the force in the Immortal's voice. He breathed in deeply. 

       Hearing the Watcher's answer, Methos' jaw dropped, his blood running cold. 

       "It was crying, Methos," whispered Joe, head lowered. "It had its hand raised, begging Mac's body to accept it." 

       "What was it, Joe? What did you see?" 

       After a moment's hesitation, Joe answered, "Methos, it was an angel. A weeping angel." 

       At that revelation, the Methuselah Stone suddenly began to pulsate with a strange light. Drawn to that light, the ancient slowly raised his hand to it. 

       Like a man entranced, Methos barely heard Joe warn, "Be careful, Methos. Don't touch it! There's no telling what that thing might do." 

       But ignoring the Watcher's pleas, the Immortal reached for the crystal. The minute his hands touched the smooth surface, raw energy jolted through his body. There was a wrenching sensation and Methos just found himself hurtling through a dark abyss, screaming to Joe to help him. 

       Instead, his cries for help were answered by the sound of flapping wings. A strong hand grabbed his wrist, stopping his fall. 

       When he looked up at his savior, Methos beheld the smiling face of an angel. Unlike Radhael, however, this seraph was clad in a comfortable, traveling tunic, with gold sandals on his feet. His water gourd and wallet were held secure by a golden strap over his shoulder. 

       "Raphael?" the ancient whispered in disbelief, unsure of how he knew this angel's name. 

       "It's been a very, very long time, my brother," said the chief of all guardian angels and the Lord's Angel of Providence. "I'm glad you still remember me." 

       "Where am I?" Methos asked. "What is this place?" 

       "This is the darkness where you lived for five millennia." There was great sorrow on Raphael's face. "The darkness to which you were condemned." 

       The Immortal shook his head in bewilderment. "I was condemned. I don't understand." 

       "You dared to love, Methriel, a seraph of the Father -- the kind of love that is reserved only for a humans, but forbidden to angels. We tried to keep you and Radhael apart." Raphael granted Methos a glorious smile. At that same instant, a light appeared behind the seraph. "But you have proven that there is...a holiness...to human love as well." 

       "This is all very confusing for me." 

       "That's why I'm here. Our Lord has sent me to guide you. Things are happening too fast now. We fear for Radhael's soul, and that of your son's, as well as the life of the man you know to be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." 

       The light behind the seraph grew larger and brighter. 

       "What do you mean? Are Sean and Radhael in trouble? What about Duncan? Please! I don't understand any of this!" 

       "You will." As they were engulfed by the light, Raphael whispered, "I'm here to help you remember, Methriel. Remember the love." 


	6. A Tale of Two Angels (Part One)

 

** CHAPTER SIX **

  
** _A Tale of Two Angels (Part One)_ **

 

        _"He is very beautiful, is he not, Methriel," a silky voice dripping with malice and venom whispered in the archangel's ear._

        _Methriel stood behind a flame tree, its scarlet leaves and star-shaped fruit further hiding him from view. There was a dreamy smile on his face as he gazed at the lovely young angel frolicking in the crystal clear lake. Indeed, the angel was truly a sight to behold -- a beautiful face, firm body, snow white wings. His laughter was pure song. As he watched the young seraph play with the rainbow-colored birds fluttering around him, strange sensations were being roused in Methriel, feelings he never knew existed inside him. He had never felt this way towards another angel before. Methriel wondered if it had something to do with his recent studies on the baser aspects of human nature._  
        _"Yes, he is very beautiful," Methriel affirmed, not taking his eyes off the seraph._

        _"I've heard that Our Lord himself created him, that he's...special. A true innocent, unknowing of the ways of both Heaven and Earth. An angel whose only purpose is to give joy and happiness. I wonder, Methriel, would he give us delight if we were to partake of the essence of his loins?"_

        _"Do not be crude, Lucifer!" retorted Methriel. "As you said, he's special. 'Tis not my wish to see such a pure soul sullied."_

        _"That may be so," Lucifer began, "but I know that it is your desire to have him. Why deny what is in your heart?" The angel said suggestively, "If you wish, I could give him to you."_

        _Methriel turned to look at the elder angel. "For what price? Do not tempt me, Lucifer. I have heard of your plan to rebel against the Lord. I will not have any part in it."_

        _"So you will simply cower in the shadows, lusting after the Lord's beloved seraph." Lucifer clucked his tongue. "You, Methriel, are pathetic!"_

        _"And you, Lucifer, are a fool if you think you could place yourself above God Almighty!"_

        _"I do not place myself above God but upon those lowly humans whom He had asked us to serve."_

        _"I do not think them to be lowly. Like us, God created them out of His own image. So they are, essentially, our brothers and sisters. To serve them is to serve Our Lord. To do evil upon them is to disobey the Father."_

        _That rebuttal caused a dark scowl to form on Lucifer's face. Methriel nearly recoiled from the hatred and fury he saw in the archangel's ice blue eyes, his face contorted in rage that made him look monstrous. Then, Lucifer smiled one of his charming smiles. It was as if that terrible visage Methriel saw was just a trick of his mind._

        _"If that is your decision, there's nothing I can do about it." Lucifer gave Methriel a conniving wink. "However, let it not be said I never did you any favors." Turning to the angel playing and swimming in the lake, Lucifer called out, "Radhael! Come here, child! There's someone here who wants to meet you!"_

        _"Lucifer, no! You accursed fiend!" Methriel was about to throttle the archangel, but Lucifer flew off, laughing._

        _It was then that he heard the sound of angel's wings behind him -- the whisper of a gentle breeze, the music of bird song and the soft tinkle of crystals. Slowly, Methriel turned around and beheld twinkling lavender eyes staring back at him. He wouldn't dare take his eyes off those violet orbs, knowing that the young angel was naked and that his desire would be all too revealed if he did so._

        _But then, the seraph granted him a smile -- a smile so pure, so playful, so absent of guile -- and Methriel felt forbidden urges rise up inside him._

        _Totally unaware of the desires he was eliciting from the elder angel, Radhael raised both his hands, offering him a crystal rose._

        _Radha's sweet voice was music to Methriel's ears as he greeted, "Hello!"_

        _"METHRIEL! METHRIEL! METHRIEL!"_

        _Before the exuberant seraph could flit past him and rouse the humans inside the hut, Methriel grabbed Radhael and clamped a hand over his mouth._

        _"Radha, keep quiet!" he ordered. "The humans will hear us!"_

        _Radhael nodded his head. But as Methriel released him, the young angel exclaimed, "I want to see the humans! I want to see the humans!" To Methriel's shock, the excited seraph was about to pull the windows open. As he snatched the angel back, Radha's halo fell over his head and around his neck._

        _Grumbling, Methriel fixed Radha's halo back in its proper place. "What are you doing here, Radha? Did you ask permission from Father?"_

        _Suddenly uncomfortable, Radhael began to sway his body to and fro. "Uh...err...no." At that admission, the guilty seraph popped his thumb between his full lips._

        _Methriel groaned. "How did you get here?"_

        _"I flew."_

        _"Of course you flew," he said in mild exasperation. "You wouldn't be able to reach Earth if you didn't fly. What I meant was, surely you didn't come here alone. Who brought you here?"_

        _"Belial," the seraph answered. "He told me I'd find you here._"

        And Belial is Lucifer's ally, _mused Methriel wryly._ How convenient!

        _Lost in thought, Methriel did not notice that Radhael had his body half way through the window. Suddenly, a woman screamed in agony. In his surprise, Radha lost his balance. Grabbing the seraph's legs, Methriel tried to stop his descent, but ended up being pulled along with him. The two angels just found themselves sitting on their butts inside the house, the owners looking at them in shock._

        _Methriel snatched the halos from both their heads and hid them within his robes. He even cast a glamour around them so that their wings would not be seen. "Forgive the intrusion," he spoke in human tongue. "We were just passing by and we heard..."_

        _"OH!" Radhael swept past the flustered archangel and went towards the young woman who was writhing in agony on the bed. "You're hurt! What's wrong with her? Is she sick? Why is her belly so big?"_

        _"My wife is with child, kind sir," the woman's husband replied, his voice fraught with worry. "It's her time to give birth...but the healer...she said the baby is in the wrong position and cannot be turned. She said there was nothing more she could do, that my wife and child are going to..."_

        _"No!" the woman cried stubbornly. She gripped Radha's hand. "I do not care if I die, as long as my child lives!"_

        _An anguished cry escaped her lips, her hand tightening around the seraph's._

        _Then, a comforting smile formed on Radhael's face. "You don't have to die. You and your baby are going to be just fine."_

        _The seraph raised his finger before the woman's eyes. Giggling, he asked, "Do you see them? Aren't they pretty?"_

        _"What is he talking about?" the husband queried in confusion. "I don't see anything."_

        _But there was great delight on the woman's face. "They're so beautiful!"_

        _Methriel could clearly see what Radha had created. Flitting before the woman's eyes were butterflies of various shapes and colors. Distracted as she was, she did not notice that the seraph was massaging her belly. Eyes closed, perfumed sweat trickling from his brow, Radhael was easing her baby down, taking her pain with every inch of the child's descent. Before Methriel could extend his assistance to the younger angel, to everyone's surprise, the baby just popped out, falling into an overjoyed Radha's arms._

        _"Look, Methriel!" Radhael exclaimed happily, though the strain was still apparent on his handsome face. To the archangel's alarm, the seraph lifted the baby by placing his hands under its armpits. "A tiny human! Is it a boy or a girl?"_

        _The young woman took the child, tears of joy falling from her eyes. "We have a beautiful son."_

        _"But how do you know?" Radhael insisted._

        _She pointed to the small thing jutting out between the child's legs. "This...is how you know that he's a boy."_

        _"This dangling thing?" the seraph queried, gingerly touching the baby's sex between his fingers._

        _The woman looked at the young angel curiously. "You're a handsome man. Why do you not know this?"_

        _Methriel grabbed Radhael's arm before the angel could raise his robes and peer at his lower body. "We must be heading our way."_

        _"Thank you!" the husband wept in relief. "Thank you so much for helping my wife and son!"_

        _"Oh, you're welcome!" Radha piped in, waving his hand. "Bye, bye!"_

        _The two angels quickly took off into the sky. Noticing, however, that the seraph was lagging a bit behind, Methriel flew by his side and placed his hand on Radha's waist, offering him support._

        _When they were a distance away from the village, they landed in the branches of an oak tree._

        _"Radha, you know you almost got us into trouble," Methriel scolded the younger angel. "We're not supposed to reveal our existence to humans."_

        _"Why not?" asked Radhael absent-mindedly, fidgetting in his seat to loosen his robes. "If I didn't help, the woman and her baby could've died."_

        _"You don't understand, Radhael. We're only supposed to watch, but never interfere." Frowning, Methriel saw that Radha was not minding his sermon at all and was hunched forward in an attempt to peek under his robes. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"_

        _The seraph gave the archangel a quizzical glance. "How do you know if you're a girl?"_

        _"Why are you asking all these questions?"_

        _"Well, I've got that dangling thingee between my legs like that baby, but..."_

        _"Then, you're a boy angel PERIOD."_

        _"Where do babies come from?"_

        _That innocent query caused Methriel's jaw to drop._

        _"Where do babies come from?" the seraph repeated, more insistent._

        _"I heard you the first time." Methriel's brow knitted in a frown, gesturing helplessly with his hands. "Babies come from...they uh..."_

        _"How did they get inside the tummy of the mommy?"_

        _"Well, they got in there by...uh...they...err.... Why are you asking me all these questions?"_

        _Radhael shrugged. "I just wanted to know where babies come from. Is that a bad thing to ask?"_

        _"No, but..." Methriel hesitated, unsure of his reply. "I don't think I'm allowed to tell you that. Why don't you ask Father?"_

        _The seraph pouted. "Then He'd find out I was with you and He'd get very angry."_

        _"You should have thought of that before you went with Belial. What about Metatron? Surely he'd be gracious enough to answer your questions."_

        _Radhael quickly shook his head. "No, no, no! Not Metatron! He's too scary and he's always surrounded by storms and lightning. Besides, he's too close to Father. He'd squeal on me." The seraph batted an eyelash at Methriel, begging, "Please, Methriel? Please tell me!"_

        _At that moment, a stork appeared at the distance. Pointing in that direction, the archangel said, "See that bird? That's a stork. It carries the baby in a bundle hanging from its beak and delivers it to the parents."_

        _Radhael squinted at the stork. "I don't see it carrying any bundle."_

        _"Then it must have made a baby delivery."_

        _"You're lying to me," accused Radha balefully._

        _"Now, why would I lie to you?" Methriel breathed in exasperation. "No! I won't tell you! If I tell you, I'll get into trouble!"_

        _"I won't tell anyone!"_

        _"But Father would know. Believe me, He'd know."_

        _Radhael crossed his arms over his chest and declared obstinately, "If you won't tell me, fine! I'll find out for myself!"_

        _Methriel was about to argue with the seraph when a young man and woman appeared out of nowhere and ran right under the tree they were sitting on. The archangel's eyes widened in shock, seeing them hastily divest each other of their clothing. Lying down on the ground, the couple began to make love._

        _"What are they doing?" his companion suddenly piped in._

        _Before Methriel could stop him, Radhael flew down to the lowest branch of the tree, cloaking himself with a shield of invisibility. The archangel swiftly swooped down after him._

        _"Let's go, Radha," urged Methriel, tugging on the seraph's wing. "Everyone will be looking for us."_

        _But Radhael would not be moved. He sat transfixed on the branch, watching the couple in rapt silence._

        _"Radhael..." Methos said again._

        _"No, not yet," whispered the seraph._

        _Helpless, the archangel had no choice but to sit it out beside Radhael, hoping he could give the young angel logical answers to the questions he may have, so that he could temper the emotions and sensations he knew were rising inside the seraph. Methriel knew that Radha could see all too clearly the rainbow-colored aura of love emanating from the couple._

        _Radhael, however, was strangely quiet as he watched the man and woman kiss, their trembling hands exploring every inch of their bodies. When the man fondled the woman's breasts, unconsciously, Radha's right hand went up to his own chest, entering the opening of his robes. His eyes widened, seeing the man take his hardened tool in hand. Even greater was the seraph's surprise when he saw the woman pry open the petals of the orifice between her legs and let the man plunge his thick member inside her._

        _As Methriel observed his companion with growing alarm, Radhael's hands had descended to his lower body, prying up his robes to explore the region between his thighs. At once, a shocked gasp escaped Radha's lips, his cheeks ghastly pale._

        _"Radha, what is it?" Methriel asked in concern. "Is something wrong?"_

        _"Let's go home, Methriel!" the seraph replied, the feathers of his wings bristling, obviously shaken. "Please, Methriel. I've seen enough."_

        _Taking Radha's hand, the archangel stretched his wings out and carried them off into the sky. In silence, the two angels made the journey back to Heaven._

 


	7. A Tale of Two Angels (Part Two)

 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

** _A Tale of Two Angels (Part Two)_ **

        _"Methriel, may we have a word with you?"_

        _Turning, the archangel beheld his superiors, Michael and Raphael. "Why yes, of course! What can I do for you?"_

        _Ever the diplomat, Raphael replied, "Actually, we're here because Our Lord is asking a boon of you."_

        _"Let's cut all this small talk," interrupted Michael curtly. "Methriel, we found out about your little sojourn to Earth with the young seraph Radhael."_

        _"I don't know exactly what you heard, Michael, but it was Belial who brought Radhael to me, at Radha's own request I might add."_

        _"However, you could have brought him back to Heaven at once. But no, you two dilly-dallied and now Radhael is asking questions that are...disturbing...in nature."_

        _"What is disturbing? Radha helped a woman give birth. He saw a young man and woman make love. What is disturbing about that?"_

        _"These are things that Radhael should never have seen."_

        _"Why?" Methriel argued. "Because Our Lord created him innocent? Nothing is permanent, including innocence. Michael, you saw for yourself what happened to Adam and Eve. They were innocent, until they were tempted to partake of the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge."_

        _Michael shook his head. "And it pained me greatly to banish them from Eden's Garden. We still haven't found who the tempter was. But we have our suspicions. He now has many allies in his plot to overthrow Our Lord." The Prince of the Heavenly Hosts gave Methriel a meaningful glance. "There are reports that you may be one of them."_

        _Methriel's eyes narrowed in anger. "And who dared to make this accusation about me? I would never betray Our Father!"_

        _"True, but you cannot be a servant of two masters. You desire Radhael -- a human kind of lust."_

        _"No, not lust, Michael! Love!"_

        _The archangel, however, persisted, "The lust that could only be quenched by the joining of flesh. This is the way of humans, but not of angels."_

        _"What makes the expression of love among humans wrong for us? Radhael himself witnessed the waves of love emanating from that man and woman, and theirs is no different from the aura that we exude."_

        _"We are above humans!"_

        _"No, Michael! The capacity of humans to love is no different than ours. In this regard, we are equal. Don't make that mistake, or else you will fall in the same delusion as Lucifer."_

        _Michael's voice seethed as he muttered, "How dare you compare me to that fiend! Your words speak treason!"_

        _"Now, Michael," Raphael chided the archangel. "Let's not jump to conclusions. You don't have any proof of that now, do you?"_

        _Michael let out a most undignified snort. Eyeing Methriel with suspicion, he warned, "Watch yourself, Methriel! I shall be keeping an eye on you." At these words, the archangel flew off._

        _"Please forgive him, little brother," said Raphael apologetically. "His tasks have been weighing heavily on him lately."_

        _"I understand," Methriel replied. "There is great dissension among the other angels and I certainly wouldn't want to be in his place -- you know, trying to ferret these renegades out. But, Raphael, I swear I am not one of them."_

        _"And I have no doubt of that. However..." The seraph made a sweeping gesture with his hands. "Would you walk with me, Methriel?"_

        _Nodding, Methriel strolled along beside Raphael in Paradise's Garden._

        _"As much as I enjoy flying," mused the seraph, "nothing compares to the feel of good, warm earth beneath my feet. My little friend Tobias often scolds me for not wearing sandals at times. He fears that the rocks would cut the soles of my feet."_

        _"What do you want to talk to me about, Raphael?" the archangel quietly interrupted._

        _"Ah, Methriel!" Raphael exclaimed. "Always so serious! Always wanting to go straight to the point!"_

        _"I can't help it!" answered Methriel wryly, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I think I was created this way."_

        _"You are so true about that. You were created with the mind of a wise man, a scholar. You are never content until you find the answers to your questions." The seraph commented, "In a way, you and Radhael are similar in this manner. But then, Radha's queries are brought about by his natural curiosity on account of his innocence."_

        _"Just what questions has Radhael been asking exactly?"_

        _"We'll get to that," Raphael reassured him. "There are things you should know first -- about how he was created and why, what is he exactly. I'm certain you've been hearing things about our little seraph."_

        _"Only that he was created by God pure -- a true and complete innocent."_

        _"That is correct. After Our Lord had Michael expel Adam and Even from the Garden of Eden, He decided to rectify His mistake by creating another being, this time possessing the innocence of early man and the divinity of an angel. He was hoping that the angelic characteristic would give this being the strength, the innate will to avoid temptation. What He created was an amalgam of angel AND human -- our very own Radhael. But then, you know that Adam and Eve were made by trial and error, and they turned out to be a mistake. Radha was another, probably more grievous, error."_

        _Methriel frowned at that remark. "Another error, you say? Raphael, I think YOU had better watch your words. If Michael were here, he'd accuse you of treason."_

        _"All I'm telling you now has the permit of the Almighty." The seraph grinned. "Surely God cannot commit treason against Himself. Now, where were we? Ah, yes -- Radha as an error of God." Raphael then continued, "Creation is a matter of trial and error. You've seen in some measure how the world of humans has evolved. I've walked the Earth -- from its past to its future -- and I have seen so many changes, it just whirls your mind. Radhael, for all intents and purposes, is an evolved being."_

        _Raphael whispered in the archangel's ear, "Now, I may be accused of treason as well, but I DO agree with your view that we angels are equal to humans in many ways, and not just in the capacity to love. We were created out of the same ethereal mold, out of the image of God Himself. Think about it! Although angels possess wings and haloes, we look like humans. We are commonly referred to as spirits, but look into the heart of every man, woman and child, and you will see that a spirit -- the soul -- exists. What this soul will become is a matter of choice. Choose the path of good and he or she becomes an angel. You've seen for yourself what has happened to our own Metatron. He was once the human named Enoch, who lived such an exemplary, holy life that Our Lord has elevated him to the highest position in Heaven."_

        _"What if they choose the path of evil?"_

        _The seraph faced Methriel, a grim set to his jaw. "I think you saw what Lucifer is turning into -- he and so many other angels like him. Soon, God will have a place for them as well, IF they do not return to the right path. It's only a matter of time."_

        _Methriel shook his head in confusion. "What does all this have to do with Radhael?"_

        _"I'm sure you know that unlike humans, angels cannot procreate. What I mean here is that an angel could make love to another angel, but they cannot beget a child angel. Now, angels and humans, that is another matter. It is possible for humans and angels to have children, because of the inherent fertility in humans. The type of offspring that will be produced remains a question, that is the main reason why such a mating is forbidden to us. A melding of soul to soul -- that is our way of making love, not the crude and lewd joining of flesh to flesh."_

        _"I do not think it's crude," the archangel commented. "There is a kind of...beauty...to it, seeing them kiss, touch, lose themselves in the bliss of their joining. Like I told Michael, the love aura is no different from ours when we angels make love. How could this be wrong?"_

        _"Don't allow yourself to be fooled, Methriel!" warned Raphael. "The human act of lovemaking is a temptation in itself. It is not the act itself that is feared, but the offspring that will result from such an act." The seraph paused. Slowly measuring his words, he asked, "What if I tell you that such a temptation exists right here in Heaven?"_

        _There was a shocked expression on Methriel's face. "Raphael! Surely you're not talking about Radha!"_

        _To his dismay, the seraph nodded. "I'm afraid so. Did Radha ask you how you would know if an angel were a boy or a girl?"_

        _"Yes, he did. It was after that woman gave birth and then we saw..."_

        _"Well, Radhael is both."_

        _"WHAT?" the archangel blurted out._

        _"Radha is both male and female. He possesses the sexual parts of both HUMAN male and female, and both are functioning perfectly well. Unfortunately, unlike with Adam and Eve, these two parts cannot be separated into two beings. It's as if...something...is preventing this, that Radhael is, in himself, a complete being."_

        _"But how is this possible?"_

        _"No one knows for certain. Even He was surprised by the way Radhael turned out. It seems our little seraph may be the next phase in the evolution of both man and angel. The problem is the presence of these two sexual parts has made him more...human...than angel. True, Radha was created a holy innocent. But these human parts are giving him sensations...desires...that he could not define. Seeing that man and woman make love only compounded this problem. Radha is very confused, Methriel, and in his confusion, there is a strong possibility that he would come to you, if only to satisfy the curiosity his innocence has wrought."_

        _"Raphael," Methriel began, carefully mulling over the seraph's words, "are you telling me that Radha might ask me to make love to him?"_

        _"I wouldn't put it that way since there is a more exact, yet cruder, term for it," said Raphael. Nodding, he concluded, "But, yes, that is what I'm trying to say."_

        _"Then I will deny him this!" the archangel retorted vehemently. "I will not displease the Father!"_

        _"You may speak so strongly now, but I know for a fact that you are very much aware of Radha's allure. It would be very difficult to refuse the pleas of an innocent, especially one who loves and trusts you dearly as Radhael has. And, please, tell me if I am wrong. You feel something for him too, not just love -- some measure of human lust perhaps? Radha is very beautiful, you know."_

        _At this query, Methriel blushed a brilliant red and swiftly turned his back to the seraph. Then, a gentle hand was laid on his shoulder._

        _"There is nothing for you to be ashamed of, Methriel," Raphael whispered in all sincerity. "Radhael is such a kind, loving creature, you could easily lose your heart to him. On the other hand, you little brother, are wise, in spite of your youth, and I could see how much Radha trusts you to teach him everything you know of the human world below."_

        _The seraph became very solemn. "But this is just me talking, and Our Lord, thankfully, shares some of my sentiments. However, I cannot speak for the other angels. Besides, these are dangerous, treacherous times for all of us. Trust, I'm afraid, is a virtue we should be wary of giving in to."_

        _Whirling around, Methriel declared, "What am I going to do, Raphael? I know I love Radha. How could I steer both of us away from this path? I'm afraid that I may not be strong enough to resist."_

        _"Why resist it?" insisted Raphael. "There is still the angelic way of making love. You can do that. But you must not, under any circumstances, ever make love the human way. Because of his innocence, Radha will be forgiven. The Almighty will not make the same hasty judgment He had with Adam and Eve. You, however, being the elder, should know better. Methriel, I fear what may happen to you."_

        _"But what if he continues to insist on it?"_

        _Raphael shrugged his wings. "Just say no, as firmly as you possibly can. Radha's a child. He still frightens easily."_

        _The angels' discussion was suddenly interrupted by a sobbing, frantic voice, crying out, "METHRIEL! METHRIEL!"_

        _Before the archangel realized what was happening, he was bowled over by a distraught young angel. Shaking away the stars that were twinkling around his head, Methriel found himself staring into tearful violet eyes. Radhael's halo had fallen around his forehead like a circlet._

        _Methriel glowered at the seraph in suspicion. "Did you do something naughty again, Radha?"_

        _"Are you mad at me, Methriel?" queried Radhael in growing dismay. Before the archangel could reply, the seraph concluded, "You are! You ARE mad at me! You're going to whip my hiney with lightning like Metatron!"_

        _Still astride Methriel, Radha threw his head back and wailed miserably, golden tears pouring in a torrent down his cheeks._

        _Raphael was desperately trying to hold back his laughter as he hauled the bawling angel up. Wiping Radhael's tears away with his handkerchief, he said gently, "All right, Radha! Tell us what happened."_

        _Sniffling, the seraph answered, "I was asking Metatron a few questions, but he kept on ignoring me. I was tugging on his robes and I accidentally pulled it off him. Oh, you should have seen him! He was soooo scary, Raphael!" Demonstrating, Radhael pried his eyelids open with his fingers until his eyeballs bulged out. "He has so many big eyes all over his body and they were all shooting flames. I'm telling you! Metatron looked like a burning pineapple!"_

        _Raphael nearly burst into laughter at that comment, when angry lightning cracked overhead. Terrified, Radha cowered behind the senior seraph, pulling Raphael's great wings around him._

        _"But it's true," Radhael exclaimed stubbornly to the High Angel he knew was hiding in the thunder cloud hovering above their heads._

        _"Radha, child, be nice!" Raphael scolded him. Gazing up to the cloud, the seraph declared, "Now, Metatron, you know Radhael did not mean to be disrespectful. He's just a child. It's but natural for him to be curious and ask questions. Radha knows, that next to Our Lord, you are in the better position to answer his queries."_

        _There was an ominous rumble of thunder. Furious, Radhael ran to Methriel, clinging tightly to his tunic, "Did you hear that, Methriel? He called me pesky again! What's that supposed to mean? It's not a good thing, is it?"_

        _"Radha, quit tugging!" the archangel begged the seraph, trying desperately to keep his tunic in place. "You'll strip me naked!"_

        _"But you have a much nicer body than Metatron -- all white and pretty like a statue. Like I said, Metatron looks like a burning pineapple!"_

        _A tiny bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky and jolted the stubborn seraph in the butt. More in surprise than pain, Radhael jumped into Methriel's arms. Cuddling close, he bawled, "METHRIEL! METHRIEL! WAAAAAHHH!"_

        _"Raphael..." Methriel motioned frantically to the young seraph in his arms. The arousal of the archangel was all too apparent to Raphael._

        _Carefully, Raphael pried the weeping seraph away from Methriel. "Come now, child! Methriel still has a lot of duties to perform. Let's leave him alone so he could work."_

        _"No, I don't like!" Radhael declared obstinately. He batted his eyelashes pleadingly at Methriel. "Let me stay with you, Methriel! Please? I promise I won't be a bother."_

        _"Oh, Radha, are you always this stubborn?" exclaimed the elder seraph. "You don't want to get Methriel into trouble with Father now, do you?"_

        _Radha's lower lip jutted out in a pout. "No."_

        _"I promise we'll talk later, all right?" swore Methriel. "I just want to finish my chores for today."_

        _"Promise? You really, really promise?"_

        _"I swear. Now, why don't you run along and play?"_

        _Raphael quickly suggested, "I have a brilliant idea. Why don't you come with me? Tobias is looking forward to seeing you again."_

        _At once, Radha's face brightened. "Is his dog with him?"_

        _The seraph laughed. "You know those two are practically inseparable!"_

        _"What are we waiting for?" asked Radha excitedly, tugging Raphael's arm eagerly. "Let's go! Let's go!"_

        _"All right! All right! I'm coming!" Turning briefly to Methriel, the elder angel whispered, "Remember what I told you, little brother."_

        _Methriel nodded in assent. As the two seraphim walked away, he heard Radhael remark, "Tobias is very smart for a human. Maybe he could answer my questions."_

        _"About what?" Raphael queried innocently, though he knew all too well where the young seraph's curiosity lay._

        _"I want to know everything about human love."_

        _"Radha, you're still too young to know about these things. Besides, Tobias may not have all the answers."_

        _"Then, I'll ask Methriel when we get back. He's very wise and nice, not like Metatron." Remembering the archangel, Radha looked back and waved happily, "Bye, bye, Methriel! You'll teach me later, all right, about sex! S-E-X -- SEX!"_

        _"RADHA!" cried Raphael in shock. "Watch your mouth!"_

        _"That's what human love is called, isn't it?" Radha argued._

        _Those last comments remained inside Methriel's mind long after the two angels had gone. Wise and nice...indeed, that's what he was towards Radhael._

        _But, Methriel wondered, given the intense feelings he has for the seraph, if those two qualities were enough to resist the temptation that Radha was proving to be._

        Methos shook his head in dismay, as the memory dimmed from their view. "I wasn't strong enough."

        "You're not to blame, Methriel," said Raphael in all sincerity. "How could you resist what your heart is crying out for? How could you resist a soul who longs for you?"

        _"Why are you avoiding me, Methriel?"_

        _The archangel couldn't look at the weeping seraph behind him, wouldn't dare answer his question or say anything at all. If he did, he would have to lie or say something cruel just to drive Radhael away. Not only would it break the angel's heart, it would tear his own to shreds._

        _"Methriel, please!" Radha sobbed. "Did I do something wrong? My halo is still stuck to my head, so I think I didn't do anything bad." The seraph begged, "Why won't you talk to me? Are you mad at me?"_

        _"Radha," the archangel began, his voice strained, "I'm not mad at you."_

        _"If you're not mad, why won't you talk to me? You don't even want to look at me!" Bawling pitifully, Radhael exclaimed, "You don't love me anymore!"_

        _At that outburst, Methriel finally whirled around. Radhael's body was shaking uncontrollably from the force of his weeping. The seraph's head was lowered. In his hands, Radha clutched his halo. It tugged Methriel's heart to see that the angel was chewing on the gold ring like a distressed human child._

        _The archangel quickly crossed the distance between them and took the crying seraph in his arms._

        _"Don't ever say that, Radha!" Methriel cried in earnest, hugging the younger angel tightly. "I love you! I love you so much it breaks my heart that I should be apart from you!"_

        _"But why?" demanded Radhael. "If you love me, why are you staying away from me? I don't understand! Really, I don't!"_

        _"Because the kind of love that you want is forbidden to us."_

        _"How could human love be so wrong? I've seen it, remember, and it was so beautiful. How could something so beautiful be bad?"_

        _Methriel slowly pulled away. Placing his fingertips on Radha's chin, he bade the seraph to look into his eyes. "Radha, listen to me! You are very, very young. This...matter...it's too complicated for me to explain."_

        _Radhael said hesitantly, "Is it because I'm different? Because I have not one but two..."_

        _"That's just one reason." Methriel groaned, having difficulty to find the right words. "If only you were pure angel..."_

        _"But I AM an angel."_

        _"You are not...completely...an angel. Radha, you are part human. What you possess...it makes you more human than angel. It's forbidden for an angel to make love to a human because we don't know what kind of child will result from such a union. Because you are both male and female, not only are you capable of siring a child from a human female, you are also capable of bearing one."_

        _"A child?" Radha exclaimed in disbelief. "This is the cause of your fear? A sweet innocent child?"_

        _"You don't understand."_

        _"You're right! I don't! How could a child of an angel and a human be so bad? No child is born bad. I know it to be so. They are meant to be nurtured and loved, so that they will grow up knowing what is right, so that he or she will be a good person." A tear fell from Radha's right orb. "Methriel...what you told me...it doesn't change a thing. I love you, enough to give you anything you desire, to risk it all. If we're to have a child because of this act, then so be it. I will love our child dearly because I know he's ours, a product of our love. Don't deny it! I know you want it just as much as I do."_

        _"Yes, but I won't. If you want me to love you so badly, there is another way -- the angel's way." Smiling reassuringly, Methriel said, "Here! Let me show you."_

        _The archangel changed into his spirit form. Slowly, he reached for Radhael, hoping to join with him soul to soul, heart to heart, a union of love that goes beyond the flesh. But then, despite being in spirit form, the archangel discovered that he could not meld with the seraph, as if there was a barrier between them that couldn't be breached. After several attempts, a sorrowful and confused Methriel gave up._

        _"I guess," Radha put in sadly, "I'm more human than you thought."_

        _"Radha..."_

        _The seraph shook his head. "Please don't say anything more!"_

        _"Radhael, it was never my intention to hurt you."_

        _"But you already have." Radha turned his back to the older angel. "I won't beg, Methriel. I won't beg for the love that you are so afraid to give me."_

        _Weeping bitterly, the seraph flew away._

        _Methriel was rooted to where he stood, his face covered by his ebony locks. However, the teardrops were visible on his chin, dripping on his tunic._

        _Clenching his fist, the archangel muttered, "You cannot ask this of me any longer. I will not stay away. I will not deny what is in my heart!"_

 


	8. A Tale of Two Angels (Part Three)

 

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

** _A Tale of Two Angels (Part Three)_ **

 

        Methos watched his forgotten past unfold before his eyes. Yes, he had made that oath. Although he had not acted upon it, his intent to commit sin was already there. At that point, he had condemned himself.

        With that sudden realization, the sky slowly began to darken. But not the pitch black of night. The sky was the dark red color of blood.

        Then, lightning cracked overhead and thunder rumbled above his head. The anger of the elements, however, was drowned out by the sounds of a fierce battle -- the clashing of swords, the cries of revolt and the screams. Methos found himself standing at the far edge of a battlefield.

        To his horror, he witnessed a terrible sight -- angel fighting against angel. Brother against brother. Bloodied feathers fell upon him like snow. The ancient knew what this battle was -- the fight for Heaven, the battle between good against evil.

        From the distance, Methos heard Michael rally his troops, "Who is like unto God? Come! Follow me!" He watched the valiant archangel lead his angels right into the violent heart of Lucifer's hordes.

        "Raphael..." The Immortal turned to his companion, only to find that the seraph was gone. So, even Raphael found it difficult as well to remember those terrible days.

        Suddenly, right in the middle of the battlefield, a lone figure caught his eye. An angel was walking through the chaos, his robes stained with blood. He was weeping, seemingly confused by the violence around them. Then, the angel touched one fighting archangel, tugging on his tunic. But he was ignored by both combatants.

        Although he was far, Methos could hear what the poor angel was pleading to the warriors he touched.

        "Please!" the angel begged. "I don't want to live anymore! I beg you to take my life! Please kill me!"

        Methos gasped, recognizing that plaintive voice immediately.

        "RADHAEL!" Without thinking twice, the ancient broke into a run, making his way through the battlefield. However, the area was filled with angels, that he was having difficulty reaching the seraph.

        Then, the Old Man felt a disturbing lurch in the pit of his stomach as he crossed the threshold separating the present from the past. As he emerged into the past, a metamorphosis had taken place. Methos was now clad in armor, his tunic spattered with blood. Remembering the seraph, he swiftly willed his sword back into the ether.

        _"RADHA!"_

        _At that desperate cry, the Archangel Methriel unfurled his wings and took off into the sky. Nearing the spot where the angel was, the archangel swooped down, snatching Radhael in his arms. At first, the seraph struggled to break free._

        _But Methriel soothed, "Do not desire death, Radhael! If you die, you will kill me as well!"_

        _Radhael's tear-filled violet eyes gazed up at him. "Methriel?"_

        _Methriel flew long and hard until, finally, they arrived at the place he was searching for - a cave in the corner of Eden's Garden. Going inside, he then carefully set the seraph down._

        _It seemed as if an eternity passed as the two angels simply stared at each other, neither one able to give voice to what was in their hearts._

        _In the end, it was Methriel who broke the silence. "If I am to be condemned for loving you, then so be it. But I will not go without giving you a taste of a different kind of heaven."_

        _A glorious smile formed on Radhael's lips. With seductive grace, the seraph shrugged off his robes, letting the garment pool around his ankles. His halo followed, the gold ring falling on top of his robes. Radha's beauty was so heartbreaking. To see an innocent such as this offer himself to him...Methriel wanted to weep in happiness. Still, he had to be sure, he had to ask._

        _Unable to find the words, the archangel raised his hands to Radhael. The seraph's reply was immediate and certain. In the blink of an eye, Radha threw himself into Methriel's embrace. The pressure of his lips spoke of passion and love, waves and waves of it, that the archangel was engulfed by its heat. For a moment, Methriel feared he would not be able to give the young angel pleasure. Although he had watched the variations of the act many times, he did not have the experience. But then, instinct and the call of a longing heart asserted themselves._

        _Gently, Methriel laid Radha down on the sandy floor, not once relinquishing the seraph's lips, his tongue probing that warm, moist mouth. He didn't want to end the kiss, but he wanted to taste and caress the angel all over._

        _Reading his thoughts, it was Radha who broke the kiss. With a charming smile on his lips, he whispered, "You can do anything you want with me, Methriel. I won't stop you. I belong to you as you belong to me."_

        _Nodding briefly, Methriel licked a slick trail from behind the seraph's ear, nipping for a moment at the earlobe, going down the long graceful neck to the curve of his shoulder. Radhael burst into giggles, his wings stretching out behind him, feeling the tickle._

        _But when the archangel's hands descended to the expanse of his chest, Radha fell silent, waiting in anticipation for what will come next. With a soft whimper, the seraph threw his arms out, laying them over his wings, when trembling fingers closed over the taut peaks. He moaned in pleasure, arching his chest as Methriel teased and played with his nipples. But when heated lips pressed on his teats, the seraph surrendered himself to the ecstasy the older angel was arousing in him._

        _Methriel was in a state of disbelief and bliss, tasting the male seraph's milk on his tongue. It wasn't like anything he had ever tasted before in his life. To his credit, Radha pressed the archangel's face to his chest, embracing him lovingly, opening his mind and his heart to him. Methriel was startled for a moment at the vision of millions of blazing eyes staring back at him. At first, guilt threatened to rise, until he realized what it was - a vestige of memory and a very funny one at that._

        _Giggling, Methriel laid his chin on the shallow crevice between Radha's breasts. "You know, you're right! Metatron does look like a burning pineapple."_

        _The two angels burst into laughter._

        _"You had to peek into my brain!" giggled Radha. "Why did you focus on that of all things?"_

        _Methriel had lowered himself to the seraph's body, kissing the tiny navel. "That's not the only thing I saw."_

        _Radhael cried out as the archangel sucked in his erection, milking the shaft with his throat._

        _"Methriel! Methriel!" the young angel gasped as his testicles tightened in their sac._

        _"Where did you see this technique, Radha?" queried Methriel, licking the shaft and the tiny opening at the tip._

        _"Lucifer...and Azazel," the seraph replied, eyes tightly shut. "They took me to this city called Gomorrah. They showed me..."_

        What we're doing..._ a small voice inside his head nagged._ This is wrong. It's evil.

        _"But how could this be evil?" Radhael gazed down at his lover. "What I feel for you, Methriel, is not lust. What I saw in that city was lust. I felt no love there. This...what we have now...this is love."_

        _The uncertainty inside Methriel's heart faded away. "Yes," he whispered. "This is love."_

        _Straddling the younger angel, the archangel took Radha's hard member in his hand and sank down upon it, sheathing it in his tight channel. For a brief instant, there was pain. But relaxing the constricting ring, he was able to take Radha fully inside him._

        _Moving languidly, Methriel milked that hard rod, just as his hands pinched and pulled the seraph's tight little nubs. Radhael lost himself in the sensations the elder angel was arousing in him that he spilled his fluids inside the archangel._

        _As Methriel pulled away, Radha saw that his lover was gripping his rod in a clenched fist. At once, he understood what the archangel needed. Although still a bit wobbly, Radhael got to his knees and leaned against the cave wall._

        _Seeing the seraph's position, Methriel did not hesitate a moment longer. Wrapping his arms around the young angel, the archangel plunged his burgeoning member inside Radha's orifice without any tender preparations and a lot more forcefully than he had intended. The lancing pain caused Radha to let out an anguished cry, tears blossoming from the corners of his eyes._

        _At once, Methriel halted his thrusts. Fraught with concern, he wiped the tears away with his hands, kissing Radha's moist cheeks gently and soothingly._

        _"Oh, Radha, forgive me!" he stammered over and over again. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"_

        _"I'm all right." Radha's voice was very strained. "You just...surprised me. That's all."_

        _"I'll go slow," said Methriel. "I swear I won't hurt you again."_

        _True to his words, the archangel moved with greater care, his thrusts controlled. He held the seraph like he would a delicate crystal._

        _But then, Radhael spoke, "It's not enough, Methriel. Quicken your pace and drive in your rod hard."_

        _"Radha, I don't want to hurt you."_

        _"I will move with you. You'll see. It will be fine this time."_

        _Doing as he was told, Methriel moved faster and thrust harder. Radha moved with him, arching his body back, meeting those thrusts. Sweat covered their skins in a glistening sheen, their wings stretched out. As they neared the peak, their movements became more frenetic, desperate for completion. Unconsciously, Methriel's right hand enveloped Radha's shaft, his left crossing over the seraph's chest to pinch the right nipple. The archangel's stroking hands were in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was too much for Radhael that he came forcefully in the archangel's hand, his milk spurting from his teat._

        _Seconds later, Methriel poured his essence inside the young angel. Unable to support their weights any longer, Radhael slumped down on the ground, the archangel on top of him. Methriel carefully pulled away and lay down on his back, taking Radha along with him, cradling the seraph in his arms._

        _They lay quietly for several minutes, relishing the warm afterglow of their coupling._

        _Then, Radha whispered, "The battle... It's going to end soon. What's going to happen to us?"_

        _"I don't know," answered Methriel truthfully. "No matter which side wins, we still lose."_

        _The seraph embraced his lover tightly. "I'm so afraid."_

        _Methriel gave the angel a reassuring kiss. "Whatever happens, I won't leave you, Radha."_

        _Radhael, however, shook his head. "No. They're going to break us apart. They don't want us to be together." He gazed firmly into Methriel's green gold eyes. "If this should happen, never, ever forget me, as I will never forget you. Your love will always remain here inside my heart. I swear, Methriel, wherever you are, I'll find you."_

        _"Do you think I'll just sit back and let this happen? No, Radha. I will fight before they tear us apart."_

        _"This is one fight you're destined to lose."  Radhael spread his legs. Taking his lover's hand, the seraph laid the trembling fingers over his female opening. "There is only one thing left for you to do. I want you to make love to me...here."_

        _"Radha..." Methriel began with great apprehension. "I can't."_

        _"You must!" the seraph insisted. "If we are to be parted, I want a part of you to be inside me. The consequences be damned! I shall have your child!"_

        _Methriel looked into Radhael's violet eyes, but only saw firm determination. And love. Those beautiful lavender orbs practically shone with it. With a single nod, the lovers began again._

        _With greater care this time, the archangel prepared Radha, teasing the petals and the tiny, sensitive nub with his fingertips until the opening was glistening with fluids, ready to admit him._

        _Straddling the seraph, Methriel slowly and gently thrust into the orifice. Radha screamed in pain as his virgin flesh was torn. At once, the archangel paused, hoping to give his lover time to adjust to the invasion._

        _However, time was what they didn't have. There was a sound of flapping wings and angry footsteps. The lovers screamed, their flesh ripped, as they were forcibly wrenched apart._

        _"Methriel!" Radha cried, but several angels held the seraph back._

        _A group of thrones had secured the archangel in their grasp, bringing him outside the cave where Michael stood waiting. With fiery sword in hand, the Prince of all angels had the traitor Lucifer at bay, his head pinned by the weight of Michael's foot. Armed angels surrounded his allies as well as a number of angels Methriel knew did not take any sides in the conflict._

        _Raphael stood beside Michael. Seeing Methriel a captive, the seraph shook his head in sorrow and wept._

        _"We warned you, Methriel," said Michael, also saddened, "but you wouldn't listen."_

        _"We have done nothing wrong!" Methriel shouted. "Since when is it a sin to love?"_

        _"It is forbidden for an angel to love a human. You know that."_

        _"Radha is NOT human. He is part angel, just like you and me."_

        _"But you made love to him in the human's way." Michael shook his head. "Though you did not raise your sword against Our Lord, You disobeyed Him by taking Radhael."_

        _Radhael, who was listening from within the cave, broke free from his captors. Running towards them, he threw himself at Michael's feet._

        _"Let the punishment fall on me, Michael," the seraph begged the archangel. "It was I who tempted Methriel."_

        _"Radha, you acted in accordance with your much stronger human nature. In a way, it's been expected of you." Michael turned to the other angel. "However, Methriel acted contrary to his angelic nature. We gave him due warning, but he did not heed us, and for this he must be punished."_

        _Radhael gazed at Raphael. "Do something, please, Raphael! I love him!"_

        _"Forgive me," the elder seraph answered. "There is nothing I can do. Judgment has already been passed. Methriel shall be thrown into Hell, along with Lucifer and his allies."_

        _The young angel looked at Raphael in shock. Shaking his head, Radha cried, "No! His only crime is to love me! Methriel was not even able to spill his seed inside my belly! I will not have the offspring you fear!" Radhael turned his tear-filled violet orbs to the highest Heaven. "This judgment is too harsh, Father! Methriel does not belong with those you have condemned!" Falling to his knees, he sobbed, "I beg you, Father! Please show him mercy!"_

        _Suddenly, a beam of light shone down upon the weeping seraph. Methriel saw the stricken expression on Radhael's face as he conversed with their Lord. This changed to weary resignation and a grudging nod of agreement._

        _Then, from the clouds, the Angel of Mercy Jhudiel appeared. With him was Uriel, God's Angel of Justice._

        _"Our Lord has heart Radhael's plea for mercy on behalf of the Archangel Methriel," said Jhudiel solemnly, "and he has granted it."_

        _"However," Uriel added, "a sin as grave as has been committed cannot go unpunished. It is the Lord's judgment that Methriel be exiled to Earth, together with the angels who had chosen to stay out of this crucial conflict."_  
_Michael plunged his sword into the crystal earth on which they stood, opening a chasm that not only led to the mortal world, but also pierced a hole in Earth's fabric of reality into the eternal flame and torment of Hell._

        _Methriel was about to be thrown into the chasm when he called out, "No! Wait! I will not go, not until I find out what will become of Radhael."_

        _The seraph couldn't look at his lover._

        _Uriel replied, "Radhael shall be remade, with no memory of your existence." Turning to Michael, the angel declared, "Let His holy will be done."_

        _The air was filled with the wailing of the condemned angels as they were pushed into the abyss. So many were they that Methriel was hustled along with them._

        _The sight of his beloved among the condemned was too much for Radhael to bear. Breaking into a run, he reached out to the archangel._

        _"METHRIEL!" the seraph cried. "LET ME GO WITH YOU!"_

        _Methriel too had his hand raised, hoping he could touch even the tip of the seraph's finger. But strong hands held him tightly and he just found himself falling backwards and into the pit._

        _As he looked up, the archangel saw Radha gazing helplessly down at him, held back by Raphael, hand still raised to him._

        _*"Never forget me, Methriel!"* Radhael called to him. *"I swear I shall find you!"*_

        _It was a long, long way down to Earth, almost an eternity, it seemed to Methriel. Though the wind buzzed in his ear, it could not drown out the howls of agony of his fellow exiles as their wings were scorched with fire on the descent to the human world. Some had their wings totally incinerated into gray ash. Methriel would have screamed too, but the agony in his heart for his lost love far overwhelmed the pain of the burning of his wings. In his anguish, Methriel did not realize he had crashed on solid ground._

        _When he awoke, it was to the sound of screams and weeping and furious cries of vengeance. As Methriel stood up, his left wing dropped, broken, causing him to wince in pain. But his aches vanished from thought when he beheld the terrible sight unfolding before him._

        _Methriel stood before a small village of nomads in the desert. Everywhere he turned, humans were running in terror, especially the women, from the monsters that pursued them. As the archangel watched in horror, the fallen angels leaped upon the women, plundering their flesh like vicious dogs hungry for a bitch in heat. Even the men were not spared from their brutal lust. Worse, Methriel saw that the angels underwent a grotesque transformation. No longer did they resemble angels. Instead, they were now demons -- with hideous faces, sharp fangs and claws, dark leathery skin, some with huge bat wings on their backs._

        _Methriel did not have to think twice. With a fierce cry of outrage, the archangel summoned his sword from the ether and charged at the fiends. Mad with fury and grief, Methriel struck out, his sword slashing through the demons, who were hell bent on rapine. His fast, furious strokes were strong and sure, the sharp edge cutting through the demons' necks. He did not realize it was all over until a woman stayed his hand. In his surprise, the archangel nearly killed her as well._

        _When the madness had gone, Methriel gazed in shock at the carnage around him. His tunic was soaked in blood. Seeing the head of the demon before him, the archangel let out a keening wail, mourning for his lost comrades. As the tears streamed down his cheeks, he remembered Radhael and his eternal condemnation to this world. No longer will he see his beloved ever again._

        _Giving in to despair, Methriel tore the halo - which was surprisingly still firmly attached - from the back of his head and hurled it at a distance. Taking his sword, the archangel stretched his black wings out as far as they could go. With two quick slashes, he severed the wings from his back, the agony of it causing him to scream in pain._

        _Then, warm bodies surrounded him, enfolding him in gentle embraces, and feelings of love and gratitude. Methriel also felt something else. Some of the women were now carrying the living seed of their abusers. Offspring of angel and human -- what was desperately forbidden had now come to pass._

        _In his mind, the archangel knew now what his new task on Earth would be -- to observe the bastard offspring of the fallen angels and humans, to see what they would become._

        _Already, Methriel could feel the thrum of power within the women's bellies, like the first movements of an unborn child, like a Quickening. He knew one characteristic that these children will inherit from their angelic parents -- the gift of Immortality. To die only when their head is separated from their body._

        _But Methriel had to wait until they were born. Then he would know for certain. Elsewhere in the world, he knew this too was happening. He would need help to track these children down. The humans with him now would be a start. They would watch and record the lives of their children and those of the others. There is one thing, however, that they would not do - they will never interfere. He had committed this sin when he loved Radhael. He will not make the mistake again._

        _As the seraph's beautiful face filled his mind, Methriel burst into tears._ Forgive me, Radha, but I must forget you. I will not allow that you suffer along with me.


	9. A Tale of Two Angels (Part Four)

 

**CHAPTER NINE**

** _A Tale of Two Angels (Part Four)_ **

 

_"Methos? Methos! Wake up, son! You're dreaming!"_

       _The Immortal opened his eyes to find a kind Black face smiling down at him. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he stammered, "Forgive me, Balthazar. I must have fallen asleep."_

       _"And found yourself caught in a nightmare." The Magus handed a piece of linen to the young warrior. "It must have been terrible. What did you dream about?"_

       _As Methos wiped the tears from his eyes, he found that he could not answer Balthazar's question. His nightmare had quickly vanished from his mind, except for the haunting image of tear-filled violet eyes. But he couldn't tell the wise man this or else he'll call his two other companions and they would all launch into a discourse on the interpretation of dreams._

       _"I'm afraid I do not remember," said Methos, hoping he sounded sincere enough._

       _The look on Balthazar's face readily told him that the wise man was not convinced. Thankfully, the Magus shrugged. "As you wish. However, it would do you well to speak to someone about these dreams of yours. This is the sixth night that Melchior, Gaspar and I had to wake you. We are very worried about you."_

       _"And I graciously thank you for your concern, Lord Balthazar," the Immortal bowed, truly touched._

       _"Ho there, Gentlemen!" Gaspar called out, heading towards their campfire. He had just come from surveying the stars in the night sky. "Still awake at this late hour?"_

       _Balthazar cocked an eyebrow up. "We might ask you the same thing."_

       _"I just went to check the position of our Star."_

       _"Which hasn't moved for the past three days," interrupted Melchior._

       _Balthazar clapped a reassuring arm over his companion's shoulder. "Do not worry, friend Gaspar. The Star will no longer move. Our long journey is at an end. Tomorrow night, we shall reach Bethlehem and find the child we seek."_

       _"You sound so certain," Methos interrupted. "What if he is not THE child? What if he's one of the..."_

       _"Immortals, you mean," Melchior continued for him. "Those special beings whose existence you observe and record so avidly. Those mysterious, wondrous beings...like you."_

       _The warrior stared at them in surprise. "How...how did you know? How long have you known?"_

       _Methos let out a groan as the Magi showed him the trefoil medallions hanging around their necks._

       _"Yes, we are Watchers, but unlike the other Watchers, we know who to watch out for," grinned Gaspar, sitting down beside the Immortal. "I admire your brilliance, my friend, hiding amongst us."_

       _"Will you tell?" Methos asked suspiciously._

       _Balthazar laughed. "Of course not! We do not betray our friends. Besides, we three know that you are on an important mission, just like us. A quest. Yet, you do not know what you are searching for. But you have seen glimpses of it in your dreams."_

       _"Is that why you asked?"_

       _"Yes. We were hoping we could help you if you tell us what your visions were."_

       _Gaspar then added, "You are lost, Methos. You have been lost for a very, very long time. Great sufferings, a tremendous loss -- all these has caused you to lose your true purpose."_

       _"But I have the Watchers."_

       _"Correct," Melchior affirmed. "However, we too do not have a purpose. Why do we watch, observe and record? Why could we not share our knowledge of Immortals to the world?"_

       _"Because the world is not ready yet to receive such knowledge."_

       _Balthazar shook his head. "Forgive me, Methos, it is because you yourself are the one who is not ready. You still haven't found the one you seek. That is our true role as Watchers -- to help you find your lost one."_

       _"This is preposterous!" Methos exclaimed, standing up, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "How could I find what I've lost when I don't know who or what it is?"_

       _"And that is where we differ, my friend," Melchior raised a knowing finger._

       _The ancient looked at the wise man curiously. "What do you mean?"_

       _"We are all on a quest for the unknown," continued Melchior. "Even we do not know if this is the child we're looking for. But unlike you, we possess two things that you do not have, blinded as you are by grief, loneliness and anger._

       _"And what are those?"_

       _The three Magi looked at each other. As one, they answered, "Faith, Methos. Faith and hope."_

       _"Do I have to do this, Melchior?" Methos complained as the enthusiastic Magus slung the strap of his drum over his neck and left shoulder. "Not only could I wake up the entire village, it could bring Herod's men down upon us."_

       _"Nonsense! This is a joyous day. Why, everyone should know that our Messiah has finally come!"_

       _Methos blew away the loose strand of hair from his brow in exasperation. "I could also wake up the Child with the racket I'm going to make."_

       _"Consider it your gift to the Child," suggested Gaspar, patting his back._

       _"If I were the Child," the ancient retorted, staring balefully at the shepherds and their flock of sheep surrounding the tiny stable. "I would very much prefer a good night's sleep."_

       _Balthazar burst into laughter. "Come now, my friend! Humor us three aging mortals. As much as our Messiah will not desire the trappings of a King, but for just this one night, let us give him the pomp and pageantry that he deserves."_

       _Mumbling to himself, Methos grumbled, "As if He deserves the pomp. Bah!"_

       _But then, what else could he do? The ancient thought, might as well humor these three aging mortals._

       _Just as Methos was about to pound a single beat on his drum, the peace of the night was shattered by the discordant blare of a trumpet. To the Immortal, it sounded so much like a noisy fart. So awful was that noise that it sent the sheep scurrying in  different directions, their shepherds in hot pursuit. The only one left was a deaf, gray-wooled, old ram who just chewed on the hay before him._

       _The four men gazed up into the sky to stare at the ten or so shining beings hovering above  the hut. One of them, Methos saw, was carrying a long trumpet in his hands and he was obviously being chastened by their leader. Probably sensing that he was being watched, the flustered angel gazed down upon the ancient._

       _Methos felt his heart skip a beat, seeing those beautiful lavender eyes._

       _"RADHAEL!" Gabriel exclaimed sharply._

       _There was a sheepish grin on the seraph's face as he timidly cowered back from his fellow angels' glare. He held his horn close to his body._

       _"Sorry, Gabriel," said Radha in apology._

       _"What in heaven's name was that?" the archangel demanded, rounding on the poor angel. "That's the worst sound I've ever heard come out of an angel's horn."_

       _"I told you I couldn't play," the seraph reminded. "Why couldn't I just sing?"_

       _"Because your method of improvisation distracts us and we lose our place. You shouldn't even be here with us. If Raphael hadn't begged me..."_

       _Radha pouted. "I wanted to see the Baby. What's wrong about that? Besides, I just wanted to liven your song up a bit. There are so many happier ways to sing 'Gloria in excelsis deo'."_

       _"Unfortunately for you, we prefer the more solemn, exalted way of singing it. Now, be a good child and play the horn like I taught you."_

       _Grimacing, Radhael pressed the horn to his lips, puffed his cheeks and blew. The sound that came out was much worse, reminding Gabriel of the noise a moose in heat makes._

       _Before the archangel could scold the seraph, Radha exclaimed in glee, "LOOK! A DRUM! A REAL DRUM!" In the blink of an eye, the mischievous angel flew down towards the drummer._

       _Casting his eyes heavenwards, Gabriel clasped his hands together and said gratefully, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you very much!"_

       _Methos' eyes -- including those of the three Magi --  were wide with mortification at the sight of the approaching angel._

       _Fluttering around the ancient, the pretty angel queried, "Is that a drum? A real drum that goes thumpity thump? May I see? May I see?"_

       _The Immortal was a bit disconcerted by the way the young seraph zipped around him like a gnat. "Maybe if you stand still long enough I could show it to you."_

       _At this suggestion, the angel settled down before Methos, who raised the instrument to him. With intense curiosity and awe, the seraph ran his fingers over the sides of the drum. With the knuckles of his hand, he lightly thumped on the canvas._

       _Giggling, the angel asked, "How do you make it go rappity rap?"_

       _Methos grinned as he produced a pair of drumsticks. "Then you use these."_

       _To the angel's delight, the ancient performed a drum roll for him._

       _When the Immortal concluded his demonstration, the seraph showed him his golden horn. "Since you played so nicely for me, I will play my horn for you."_

       _Methos grimaced, waving his hands. "Errr... I don't think that would be necessary."_

       _But the angel already had his lips on the mouthpiece. Taking a deep breath, he let out several irritating blats that the ancient and the three Magi had to cover their ears. To Methos' chagrin, the old ram trotted towards the angel and let out a noisy "BAAAA!" along with the seraph's horn._

       _Before the angel could play another note, a small cloud was hurled at him by one of the angels above and clogged up his horn._

       _To everyone's shock, the seraph plopped down on the ground in a full blown tantrum and wailed, "WAAAAH! They plugged my horn! Now, I don't have a gift for the little Baby! WAAAAAAAH!"_

       _"There, there now, child," Balthazar soothed, running his fingers through the angel's golden brown tresses. "Don't cry! I'm sure you'll think of a nicer gift to give. Look at Methos here. He'll be playing the drum."_

       _The angel gazed hopefully at Methos. "Maybe you'll let me play your drum too."_

       _"And cause an even greater racket?" the Immortal thoughtlessly blurted out. "Of course not!"_

       _This reply only caused the seraph to bawl even louder, that Gabriel himself had to throw down another cloud ball that sealed the angel's mouth shut._

       _Gaspar was trying his best to stifle his giggles at the comical sight of that white puff covering the poor seraph's mouth. "Take care of our young friend, Methos."_

       _"Hurry, Gentlemen!" Melchior called out excitedly as the angels started to sing. "It's not everyday that we have a choir of angels singing our entrance."_

       _"What about me?" asked Methos, a bit peeved that he was now forgotten._

       _"Stay here with your sweet little angel," said Balthazar, hurrying after the two men, and went inside the hut._

       _Carefully peeling off the cloud ball from the angel's lips, Methos scolded, "Now look what you did! Both of us are missing the action entirely."_

       _"I'm sorry," the angel sniffled. "But I really don't know how to play this thing."_

       _Then, a brilliant idea crossed the ancient's mind. "Can you sing?"_

       _The seraph quickly nodded, a bright smile on his face. "Yes, yes! And I have a lot of happy songs inside my head too."_

       _"Well, as long as it's not obscene... Let's just wait for the others to finish." Methos found himself staring at the angel seated before him. This young creature seemed very familiar to him. To his surprise, there was similar curious expression on the seraph's face as well._

       _Suddenly, they just found themselves asking at the same time, "Don't I know you?"_

       _This caused both Immortal and angel to burst into laughter._

       _"My name is Methos," the ancient introduced himself, extending a hand to the seraph._

       _The angel smiled sweetly. "They call me Radhael."_

       _As their hands touched, something passed between them, like a fierce jolt, causing their hearts to pound rapidly inside their chests._

       _It was Methos who first let go, disturbed by the feelings that were welling up inside him._

       _Radhael was looking at the ancient in bewilderment, his right hand pressed over his heart._

       _"Methos..." the angel whispered. "That...that is not your real name, is it?"_

       _The Three Magi, having offered their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, were kneeling before the Holy Child, awed by the power and the immense love emanating from Him. There were beatific smiles on the faces of his parents, Joseph and Mary, who listened earlier to the words of wisdom the wise men gave them in advice. Gabriel watched all these in silence. All was well and he was very pleased._

       _Then, the silence was suddenly disturbed by the solemn, steady beat of a drum. To everyone's surprise, Methos marched inside, eyes forward. Fluttering behind him was Radhael, who was humming a low note. Stopping before the manger, the ancient took up the angel's bass note as Radha began to sing what would, in centuries to come, be known as "The Little Drummer Boy."_

       _Mouths agape, everyone listened enrapt to the Immortal and the angel, especially Gabriel. The power coming from them was undeniable. Not only was it purely angelic, but there was a strong underlying current, joining their energies as well as their hearts. Strangely enough, the Child seemed to feel that power. He was gazing at the seraph hovering playfully above him.  A toothless grin formed on the Child's lips and he gurgled happily, reaching out to Radhael._

       _Soon, the voices of the angel and the Immortal began to swell, slowly merging until they were just one voice, one heart, one soul. Frowning, Gabriel gazed at them through angelic eyes, hoping he could decipher this strange phenomenon. As he looked at the ancient, with a gasp, the archangel realized who Methos really was._

       _In his shock, Gabriel did not notice that the song had ended and that the seraph was smiling hopefully at Joseph and Mary._

       _"May I see him? Please? Please?" Radha asked eagerly, hands clasped together in supplication. "May I hold him too? Please? I promise I'll be careful."_

       _Mary did not have to think twice. She hastened to pick the Child up, carefully wrapping him in his swaddling clothes._

       _"Mary..." Joseph began hesitantly, seeing his beloved wife about to hand their son over to the angel._

       _"It's all right, Joseph," Mary reassured her husband as she laid her son in the seraph's arms._

       _Radhael was awe-struck as he gazed down at the gurgling Child in his arms. To Methos' chagrin, both Baby and angel burst into hearty giggles._

       _"How did you get so small, Father?" Radha exclaimed. He lovingly hugged and kissed the child. "It doesn't matter. I like you better this way. I could hug you and kiss you and say I love you so much without that nasty Metatron calling me pesky."_

       _Hearing that remark, Gabriel choked and ended up coughing. Melchior hastened to pat the archangel's back._

       _Everyone's eyes widened in alarm when the seraph raised the Child's blanket to peer at his lower body. Methos gasped as Radha lifted the Baby by his armpits that his blanket fell to the floor._

       _"Lookie, Methriel!" cried Radha in wonder. "Father has the dangling thing between his legs!"_

       _Methos quickly grabbed the Baby, fearing that the angel might drop him. "Radha!" he said sharply. "Hasn't anyone ever taught you about giving respect?"_

       _As he cradled the Child in his arms, the ancient suddenly blanched, remembering what the seraph had said._

       _"What did you call me?" Methos slowly asked._

       _"Meth..." Even Radhael had turned pale. "Methriel. I called you Methriel. I don't know why..." Pressing his hands to his lips, the seraph exclaimed, "Oh my God! Methriel! It IS you! I found you at last!"_

       _There was a gentle caress on his face and Methos looked down to find the Child staring up at him. The ancient gazed long and hard at the Baby in his arms. At once, the memories were painfully dredged up from his mind. Worse was the bitter realization of who exactly this blessed Child was._

       _At once, tears fell from Methos' eyes dripping on the Baby's cheek. There was a distressed expression on the Child's face as he reached up to the Immortal._

       _"Unfair!" Methos muttered between gritted teeth. "This is so unfair! You condemned me to an eternity on Earth! You tore me away from the one I love! And for what? Because I had the courage to love an angel who is part human. Now look at you! The offspring of a divine spirit and a mortal woman! How dare you do this to us? How dare you do this to me?"_

       _Eyes blinded with tears, the ancient thrust the Child back into the seraph's arms and fled from the stable, hurling his drum far away. Methos ran and ran, not stopping even to catch his breath. His feet brought him to the lone poplar in the middle of the wheat field. Giving in to his grief, Methos fell to his knees, his bitter tears falling on the fertile earth._

       _Pounding his fists on the ground, he wailed,_ "Damn You! How could You make me suffer for this...this sin...and then do the same Yourself? This is unfair! You are so unfair!"

       _Then, strong arms wrapped around him. Thinking it was Balthazar, Methos struggled to break free._

       _But then, a voice wept, "Please don't, Methriel! Please let me hold you!"_

       _"Radha.." the ancient whispered the seraph's name._

       _"They remade me," Radhael said, his tears falling on the Immortal's back. "They tried to make me forget you. But I always knew there was something missing. Inside my heart, I knew I was not complete. Then, I saw you. At first, I didn't recognize you, and not just because you don't have a halo or wings." The seraph hugged Methos tightly. "Oh, Methriel! What have I done to you? You look like a human who has suffered so much and so greatly! And it's all my fault! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"_

       _Turning, the ancient faced the angel and wiped the tears from his cheeks with his palms. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. I'm the one who should beg for your forgivenesss -- for breaking our vow, for forgetting you."_

       _"I understand," Radha reassured him. "Suffering can do that to any man."_

       _For a moment, there was silence between them. With great hesitation, Methos asked, "Radhael, may I... I don't know if...being so very near Him. It's just that...you don't know how long I've yearned for you."_

       _Instead of answering, however, the seraph kissed the Immortal, his own intense longing apparent in the pressure of his lips._

       _"It is not a sin to love, Methriel," said the angel. "He knows how much I love you. He will not deny us this."_

       _As they lay down on the ground beneath the clear night sky, they no longer had any need for words._

       _Radhael's brow was furrowed in a frown as he gazed up at the stars. Looking down at the Immortal who was suckling at his breast, he asked, "Methriel?"_

       _"Yes?" Methos mumbled in turn._

       _"I...I'm confused."_

       _"What about?"_

       _Haltingly, Radha inquired, "Why...why wouldn't you...take me? Here?"_

       _Methos knew immediately what the seraph was referring to. Sighing, he let his fingers play with the soft petals of the angel's yet unbreached opening._

       _"I don't think I should," the Immortal answered truthfully._

       _"Why not?" the angel asked in bewilderment. "You saw for yourself what the offspring of a mortal and a Divine Spirit would be."_

       _"But this is different. I don't think they actually did the act itself. Besides, this has been planned right from the beginning. Because you are different, not wholely angel or human, if you and I were to...I don't know what might happen. The risk is just too great._

       _"Already, the spawn of humans and angels roam the Earth as Immortals, governed by Rules that have been inscribed into the core of their being. You don't know the kind of hell they live. Feared they are as demons by humans. Thank God only a few are born with the ability to bear children and decreasing with every generation. If they should encounter another Immortal, instinct compels them to fight to the death -- the victor taking his enemy's head and the power we now call The Quickening. All this is leading to the time of the Gathering, for in the end, there can be only one."_

       _"One what?"_

       _"I don't know. Even I am a part of this cycle of battle and death. Would you want to condemn our child to a fate as hellish as this?"_

       _Radhael did not speak at first. The angel's reply stunned Methos. "Why do you fear fate? Don't you know that you have the power to change things, even these so-called Rules?" The seraph turned his back to the Immortal so that Methos would not have to see the tears that were forming in his eyes. "What is there to fear, Methriel? If you allow fear to continue to overwhelm you, you will miss your chance at happiness. Don't you want us to be together, Methriel? Don't you want me to give you a child?"_

       _Before Methos could answer, frantic cries interrupted their discussion. Looking up, they saw the Magi hurrying towards them. The archangel Gabriel was with them._

       _"Methos! Methos!" called Gaspar._

       _"Gaspar, what is it?" Methos gripped the mortal's shoulders, steadying him. Turning to the other wise men, he asked, "What's wrong?"_

       _"We had a terrible vision in our dreams," answered Melchior, panting for breath. "When we awoke, our Lord Gabriel is standing amongst us."_

       _"Gabriel, you must tell us what brings you here." Radhael turned pale. "Is it because of me and Methriel? Are you going to..."_

       _"How I wish that you were the reason why I returned!" Gabriel shook his head in despair. "The Child is to be brought into the land of Egypt for his safety. As for the Magi, they are to return to their own countries by a different route." The archangel turned to Methos. "You are to escort them. Radhael shall return to Heaven with me."_

       _"But why?" queried Methos. "What's going on?"_

       _"Herod." Gabriel said the name of the Jewish king with intense hatred and disdain. "He wants the Child destroyed. We must get him out of Bethlehem."_

       _The Immortal hastened to get dressed. "I'll saddle up our camels and my horse immediately," he told the Wise Men._

       _Gabriel, on the other hand, quickly helped the seemingly stunned seraph to don his robes. "Radha, we must hurry back! Come, child!"_

       _However, Radhael looked at the angel with suspicion. "There is something you're not telling us. Why don't you spit it out? What is going to happen?"_

       _It was Balthazar who reluctantly answered. "Deaths! There shall be many deaths in Bethlehem. Our visions...we do not know who will die. But a river of blood will course through the streets of this village."_

       _Radha stood up, facing the archangel grimly. "Gabriel, tell us the truth! Who will die?"_

       _Gabriel closed his eyes, wishing in vain that he would not have to answer that question. However, there was a strength in the seraph before him that compelled him to speak._

       _"The children," the archangel replied softly. "Herod has commanded that all male children aged two years and under in Bethlehem and its neighboring villages shall be put to death."_

       _Everyone stared in shock at Gabriel._

       _"No!" Gaspar exclaimed. "Not the children!"_

       _"That monster!" cried Methos. "We must warn the village!"_

       _"There is no time!" the archangel said helplessly. "The safety of the child and the Wise Men are our major concerns."_

       _"But why?" Melchior demanded. "I don't understand. Why the children?"_

       _"Because it has been prophesied by the prophet Jeremiah," Radha muttered to himself as he gazed at the sleeping village, so unaware of the evil that was about to befall them. He then recited the prophecy for their benefit,* "In Ramah is heard a voice of mourning and great weeping, Rachel wailing for her children and refusing to be consoled, for her children are no more." *Turning to the archangel, he said firmly, "Gabriel, I'm not going with you."_

       _"WHAT? Are you out of your mind? You're coming back with me to Heaven and that's final!" Gabriel tried to grab the seraph's arm, but Radhael yanked it back. The archangel looked helplessly at Methos, hoping that the ancient could dissuade the seraph._

       _"Radha, this is not the time to be stubborn!" the Immortal begged his lover. "You must go with Gabriel. You cannot stop what will come to pass."_

       _"But I must try. This is where we differ, Methriel. I am not afraid to try to change fate, especially a fate as terrible as this." A heartbreaking smile formed on the beautiful angel's lips. "For now, our love must wait. I am the Angel of Innocence. What kind of guardian would I be if I do not try to save these children."_

       _Giving the Immortal a desperate kiss on the lips, Radhael flew up into the sky, heading in the direction of the village._

       _"RADHA, NO!" cried Methos, but Gabriel held him back._

       _Sadly, the archangel declared, "Radhael has made his choice. You must go and escort the Wise Men."_

       _The ancient looked at Gabriel. "Surely you're not asking me to desert him. No, I won't do it!"_

       _"I agree with Methos," Melchior put in. "Angel Radhael need someone at his side to save those children."_

       _"I do not want to say this," began Gabriel, "but your safety and that of the Child's are more important. If Herod captures you, he will kill you all. You know that the Child is our Messiah, so his importance need not be explained further. But you.... Your respective countries will wage war upon Israel and more innocents will die because of it. There is a reason for everything in this world. This...sacrifice...is necessary, lest the greater evil befall you."_

       _"True," said Balthazar. "But that does not lessen the pain nor the horror of what would be this terrible sacrifice." The Magus patted the Immortal's back. "Let us depart posthaste, Methos. The border is not far from here. The sooner we reach it, the faster you could return to Radhael's side."_

       _Methos gazed in the direction where the brave seraph had gone._

       _Nodding to the Wise Man, he thought,_ Hold fast, Radhael. I swear I'll be at your side once I complete this final task.

       _Having accompanied the three Magi two thirds of the way towards the border, at the insistence of Balthazar and the others, Methos hastened back to Bethlehem._

       _It was noon when the Immortal arrived at the village. The sounds of wailing and lamentation in the air chilled Methos' blood._

       _Riding through the empty streets, the ancient stared in shock at the blood tainting the walls of the houses. At the doorway of one hut, a dead woman lay with her slain infant in her arms. Near the well, two children were sprawled beside it, the buckets they used to fetch water still held in their hands. The water inside has spilled on the ground, mixing with their blood to form dark red pools._

       _Dread filling his heart, Methos knew that he came too late. Radha's twinkling violet eyes filled his mind. Fearing for the angel, the Immortal spurred his horse into the heart of Bethlehem._

       _Turning at the street corner, Methos heard raucous laughter. Swiftly, he leaped from his steed, sword in hand, and made his way towards the direction where he heard those voices._

       _The ancient found himself standing before the synagogue. Outside, six solders were drinking, laughing in glee._

       _"Such a pretty thing, isn't he?" declared one soldier._

       _"Indeed, he is quite capable of satisfying all of us," his comrade agreed. "We must find more like him."_

       _"I think that would be impossible. Well, shall we bring him back with us?" another man asked._

       _"And share him with Herod?" the soldier sitting on the lowest step exclaimed. "Of course not! We shall take him to the brothel. Not only can we get to use him anytime we like, we could make money out of him."_

       _As Methos watched in horror, two soldiers stepped out of the building, wide sated grins on their faces as they fixed their rumpled tunics._

       _"All right!" one of them declared. "Who's next to feast upon our little angel?"_

       _That question was too much for the Immortal. With a fierce cry, he charged at the soldiers, once again transformed into that Bronze Age terror known as the Horseman Death. Herod's men certainly did not stand a chance. Despite being outnumbered eight to one, with the gift of Immortality and blind rage to his advantage, one by one, he relentlessly slaughtered the soldiers until they all lay dead at his feet._

       _Then, there were shouts coming from within the building and Methos braced himself, ready to meet his foe._

       _Suddenly, however, there was a blinding flash of light inside the synagogue. This was followed by horrible screams. Methos stepped to the side as four men stumbled out, burning from head to toe. They fell to the ground as ashes._

       _Swiftly, the Immortal ran inside the building. At once, he paused, eyes brimming with tears, at the sight that greeted him._

       _Michael stood in the center of the darkened hall surrounded by dead infants and children. Seated on the bloodstained floor, weeping, was Raphael. Cradled in his arms was the naked, broken form of Radhael._

       _Methos shook his head, bursting into remorseful tears, as he got to his knees before Raphael. "No! Please Lord, no! Not Radha!"_

       _"He's alive, Methriel, but barely," Michael said in sorrow, golden tears streaming down his cheeks._

       _Raphael added, "I'm taking him back to Heaven so I could heal him."_

       _"I came too late! Oh, Radha! I'm so sorry!"_

       _"You did what you had to do." The Prince of the Angels gazed proudly at the young seraph in Raphael's embrace. "Radha was very brave. He was not a trained fighter like us. But he tried his very best to save the children, hoping he could change their fates. He even brought the children here, believing that in this holy place, they would be safe. The soldiers...they did not even respect the House of God. In the end, his sacrifice was for naught and those men...they took away his innocence." It was then that Methos noticed the blazing sword in Michael's hand. Pressing his lips firmly, the archangel remarked, "This is the first time I took human life, and I have no regrets."_

       _Hearing their voices, Radhael somehow managed to rouse himself from his pain-filled stupor. Turning to the Immortal, in a hoarse voice, he called his lover's name, "Methriel..."_

       _Methos caressed the angel's bruised cheeks. "Yes, Radha, I'm here! I'm here! Forgive me! I came too late!"_

       _A tear trickled from the seraph's right eye. "I couldn't do anything! I couldn't save a single child!"_

       _"You did all you could. You tried your very best."_

       _"But it wasn't enough! I couldn't even save myself!" Radhael began to weep in bitterness. "Oh, Methriel! They took everything!"_

       _"Raphael will heal you. Things will be fine. You'll see."_

       _"No. Once innocence is lost, it could never be regained. Methriel, what is to become of us now? If only you didn't let fear overwhelm you, you should've been first. You should've been the one, NOT THEM!"_

       _"Radha, I never cared for your flesh! What I cherished in you was your gentle, loving heart! Despite what happened to you, I still love you!"_

       _The seraph shook his head in despair. "It's too late now! It's too late!" Burying his face in Raphael's robes, he sobbed, "Oh, Raphael! The children! Those poor children!"_

       _Michael too began to cry. "Oh, Radha! Don't weep! You may not have saved them from death, but you have returned them to the place where they truly belong...in Heaven, with us. Look, Radhael! They're here to accompany you back home."_

       _Methos did not understand the archangel's words at first...that is, until he saw dim shapes slowly begin to form before his eyes. The ancient gasped, seeing the ethereal shapes of the slain children, some of them with their parents who died protecting them._

       _Cupping the weeping seraph's face, Methos urged him, "Radha, look! They're all here!"_

       _"Look, child!" Raphael insisted as well. "They're here to care for you this time."_

       _With great reluctance, Radhael did as he was requested, slowly turning to gaze at the smiling spirits gathered around him._

       _As renewed tears of guilt streamed down his cheeks, Radha cried, "I'm sorry I failed you! Please forgive me!"_

       _In answer, the spirits floated towards the distraught seraph one by one, kissing him lovingly and reassuringly on his cheek. One little girl even fastened his fallen halo to the back of his head before kissing him on the lips. When they were done, some measure of peace had returned to the young angel's handsome features. Still, there was deep sadness in Radhael's eyes as he gazed at the Immortal._

       _"They told me I shouldn't lose hope," the seraph told Methos. "But...after this...I don't think I have anything to hope for."_

       _"I told you, Radha," Methos said firmly. "I still love you very much. Nothing could ever change that."_

       _"However, the fear still resides inside your heart. Unless you lose your fear and fight for our love, as much as I do, I don't think there's any hope for us." He turned to Raphael. "Could you take me home now, Raphael, Michael? Please! I want to go back to Heaven."_

       _Sadly, the two elder angels nodded. Nevertheless, Raphael gave Methos a reassuring glance. The ancient knew that the seraph will try to sway the young angel back to his favor._

       _As the two angels, with their charge, flew up into the shaft of light that suddenly shone down from the ceiling, along with the souls, Methos called out, "I'll wait for you, Radha. No matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you."_

       _But Radhael replied, "You won't wait, Methriel. You'll always forget. The fear will always make you forget the love."_

       No, Radha, _swore Methos as the angels and their spirit companions vanished._ I won't forget. This time, I won't forget you.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

**CHAPTER TEN**

       Suddenly, a voice declared, "But you did forget."

       Before Methos knew what was happening, in the blink of an eye, his surroundings disappeared. He just found himself standing in a white, empty space. The ancient was not alone. With his was a beautiful woman with wispy blonde hair. At her side was a short man with curly blond hair and a nose much bigger than his. Methos didn't even have to guess who they were.

       "Tessa..." the Immortal whispered. "Fitzcairn..."

       "I've always wanted to meet the man who has...married...my beloved Duncan," Tessa remarked, going towards him. Hugging him, she said, "Thank you, Methos, for loving him as much as I have. Maybe even more."

       "I wish I could say I had been a good lover for him," Methos said with deepest regret. "I have caused him so much pain."

       "Simple growing pains in a loving relationship that is meant to last an eternity..." Tessa laughed lightly. "...Although you two seem to have the tendency to blow your troubles up to mammoth proportions. However, you will survive because your love is strong. I have no doubt of that."

       "But you don't know what I did." The ancient lowered his head in shame. "Because of what I've done, I've lost Duncan and the gentle angel he once was -- my beloved Radhael."

       Fitzcairn fidgetted in place. "You're not entirely to blame. I...uh...admit...that all that has happened recently was because I was...partly...at fault."

       Methos looked at the Immortal curiously. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

       "Six years back," Fitzcairn began, "do you remember how Duncan came to you, expressing his desire to have a child? At that time, my dear friend was being manipulated by Immortals of a different sort -- a pawn in a cruel chess game. Duncan's wish for a child to call his own was real, make no mistake about that. However, these...Immortals...known as the Endless...used the poor Scot's emotional vulnerability for their own petty whims, particularly to get back at their older brother, the being you know as Dream."

       The ancient gasped. "Yes, I know him. Lord Morpheus was a good friend of an acquaintance of mine, Hob Gadling. During the winter solstice, he and Duncan appeared to me in a dream."

       "Lord Dream did not want his sisters to succeed in ruining Mac's life, so he decided to give Duncan the child he wanted," continued Tessa. "Dream came to us for help. Since Duncan is capable of bearing a child inside him because of his angelic aspect, we assisted Dream in the creation of this little boy -- we and so many others who loved Mac -- by putting bits and pieces of ourselves in the soul crystal that Dream conjured up. The only thing needed was your seed to give this child life."

       "You're talking about Sean, aren't you?"

       "Yes. Unfortunately, we forgot a very important...ingredient, so to speak."

       "Innocence, Methos," put in Fitzcairn. "Since we were all adults when we died, our memories of our childhood were very vague, not enough to provide Sean with the innocence that is an integral part of a little boy."

       Methos nodded in understanding. "Then, that is why Sean..."

       "Is an adult inside a child's body." Tessa grimaced at Fitzcairn. "Worse, it seems Fitz here had unwittingly placed that unsavory part of him that is so obsessed about sex."

       Hearing this, the ancient wanted to laugh at the way how silly all this sounded. But ridiculous as it may seem, it all made perfect sense.

       "Fate could be cruel sometimes," Fitzcairn remarked. "When Duncan was shot in the head, the trauma reawakened that side of Mac that is the Angel Radhael -- sweet like a child, playful and mischievous, innocent. You forgot about Radha, but your heart never did. You were drawn to his innocence and yet fear it at the same time. Because it is in your nature to be evasive, to drive away all you cared about for fear of losing them, you...hurt...him. But he always forgave you.

       "Don't think, however, that it was only you who was having a difficult time. Duncan, on the other hand, was having trouble coping with his newly regained innocence. Because of this, he could not understand Sean's adult preoccupations. But that does not mean that he doesn't love his son. On the contrary, he loves Sean, just as much as he loves you. That is the reason why, when he died, he sought to remove that part of him that he believed was the cause of all the pain in your life. He did not know that it was Radhael who made his spirit whole -- the true essence of the man who is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. The Methuselah Stone, with its divine power for healing, gave him his wish."

       "That's how strong his love is for you, Methos. Even as a split entity, he would do anything for you and Sean. But now, Radhael -- that good, gentle side of Mac -- has made the ultimate sacrifice. It is a sacrifice that has put his life, not only as an angel but also that as Duncan MacLeod, and Sean's in jeopardy. At this moment, Duncan is going to Radha, intent on killing him." Tessa then stated, "The question that begs to be asked now is are you strong enough to save him and your son?"

       Methos nodded his head, his jaw set in firm determination. "Yes. Tell me what I must do."

 

       When the ancient awoke, he found that he was still sitting in the armchair in Joe's home. The Watcher sat opposite him. Judging from the ashen features on Joe's face, Methos realized that he had been talking while in a trance.

       "You...and...Mac?" Joe gasped out. "You are angels? Real angels?"

       Methos smiled weakly, feeling as if every emotion from his body has been dredged out. "Strange, isn't it? But yes, we are angels."

       "I never imagined you to be the halo-and-wings type of guy."

       "Joe, I may be an angel, but I'm still just a guy." Methos grinned. "And your friend."

       "There are so many things I want to ask you, so many things I need to know."

       "I wish I could say I have all the answers, but I don't. Maybe we could talk about it some other time over a beer."

       The Watcher nodded, smiling. "Yes, I would like that. What are you going to do now?"

       "I have to get back to the dojo." Methos' eyes fell upon the shattered remains of what once was the Methuselah Stone. Shattered, broken into pieces like Duncan and Radha. "I'm going to make things right this time, Joe, for me, Duncan and Sean. For all of us. This time, I won't let fear get in my way."


	11. Chapter 11

** CHAPTER ELEVEN **

 

        While Methos and Joe were discussing the intricacies of Duncan's condition, back at the loft, Sean timidly approached his mother, who was busy getting dressed. In his hands, the child carried Duncan's last gift to him -- the tubs of PlayDoh.

       "Mama?" Sean asked quietly. "I...I was wondering if... Can we play a bit? I have some PlayDoh here and I..."

       At that question, however, the Scot burst into sardonic laughter. "YOU want to play? If I remember correctly, you were never the playing type. I always had to beg you to go out and play with me or with the other children. But, no, you just want to sit in front of your damned computer and watch stupid bimbos getting fucked."

       The little boy winced at that remark. "Mama, I'm sorry. If I could take back what happened that night, I would do it willingly."

       "But you can't now, can you, despite your powers." Duncan breathed in deeply, propping his arms on the dresser to support his weary frame. "Why couldn't you have been born normal, Sean? Why couldn't you have been like any normal little boy or girl?"

       "Do you think I haven't asked that question myself? After you died, that's all I ever thought about. Maybe things would've been different if I were born normal, but I wasn't." Sean tugged desperately on his mother's duster. "Please, Mama! I want to make it right this time for both of us."

       "And how do you propose to do that?" the Highlander demanded, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "What you've done cannot be undone. Sean, you have turned me into a freak, a monster, just like you. You want to make things right between us? Then, stay the hell away from me!"

       "But, Mama..."

       "I wish I never bore you, Sean!" Duncan hissed in the child's face. "I wish you were never my son!"

       Saying this, the Scot swept past the weeping little boy and stormed inside the lift, closing the gate with a crash.

       Curling up into a ball beneath the window sill, Sean cried in remorse, "I'm sorry, Mama! I'm so sorry I did this to you!"

       Sean must have sat there for hours, his eyes red and puffy from weeping. Feeling his legs cramping up, the child carefully got to his feet, using the windowsill for leverage, his leg muscles complaining from the sudden stretch.

       It was while he was kicking his legs out, trying to bring back circulation in his limbs, that Sean saw a dark figure staring up at him from the street below. Quickly, hoping to get a good look, he opened the window, but the person had disappeared. The child thought it was just a trick of his imagination. But when he looked down once more, the person was standing right there again.

       That frayed cap, thick coat and worn boots -- there was no mistaking who that person was.

       "Radhael!" Sean cried out, hand raised to the seraph.

       But in that split second between thought and recognition, the angel vanished.

       "Radha..." the little boy whispered in despair.

       Stepping away from the window, Sean's eyes fell upon the smug toy lying on the bed. His face slowly brightened, realizing that the angel was within the vicinity of the dojo. He only needed to draw Radhael out.

       And Sean knew just how to do it.

 

       Radhael cautiously peeked out from the alley he was hiding in to glance up at the window where he had seen Sean. To his dismay, however, the window was now sealed shut.

       The seraph wanted to weep. He had felt Sean's anguish earlier and he was desperate to hold the child in his arms and soothe his pains away. Radha had actually taken three steps towards the dojo, when the Highlander suddenly emerged from the building. The angel had reeled back from the anger and hatred emanating from the Immortal. But he had to do something for Sean.

       Then, for a moment, Duncan paused, as if sensing his presence. Terror overwhelming him, Radhael scurried back inside the alleyway. The Scot had stared intently at that small side street. His heart pounding in his chest, Radha feared Duncan MacLeod would see him and realize who he truly was. Thankfully, though, the Scot had walked away. If he had stayed and investigated the alley, without a doubt, the seraph knew the Highlander would kill him.

       Radhael had no means to measure the amount of time he had stood outside the dojo. Helpless, he could only send muted versions of his angel kisses to the child he knew was crying inside.

       The seraph didn't know what it was that caused Sean to open the window. But he felt his heart soar when the little boy called his name. That voice even caused the child he knew was inside his belly to move vigorously. Remembering Sean's mother, however, fear triumphed over his desire to see the boy again.

       Thinking that he had missed his chance to be reunited with Sean, tears began to fall from the angel's pretty violet eyes.

       In his despair, Radhael did not notice the dojo's door open a crack and something was laid out on the front step. As Radha gazed at the dojo once more, he saw it immediately. Sitting on the front step was that kind-hearted guardian, Teddy.

       The seraph frowned, truly bewildered. Teddy didn't seem to have been discarded. In fact, the bear looked practically dapper since he last saw him. So, why was Teddy sitting out here?

       Curiosity getting the better of him, Radhael hastened to cross the street. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, however, the bear suddenly snuck back inside. The angel hesitated for a second or two. Then, Teddy peeked at him from the doorway. It looked as if the toy was waving to him. With an exasperated sigh, Radha ran after the bear.

       With great caution, Radhael went inside the dojo, looking for that teasing toy. Pushing the door open, he saw Teddy sitting right in the middle of the martial arts studio's hardwood floor. Smiling, Radha strode towards the bear, sweeping the toy into his exuberant embrace, kissing Teddy's brow lovingly.

       Suddenly, there was a soft clicking sound of the door being locked. Whirling around, the angel saw Sean leaning against the door.

       "I thought I was dreaming," the child whispered, a bright smile forming on his lips. "For awhile, I didn't think you were real, that you were just a figment of my imagination. But it's you, isn't it? Please, please tell me it's really you!"

       As tears welled up in his eyes, the seraph shrugged off the meager spell he had placed upon his appearance. At once, a cry of happiness was elicited from Sean's lips. Despite the absence of wings and halo, and that his once spotless white robes were now dirty gray and stained with dark blotches, there was no mistaking who this smiling, disheveled, yet still very beautiful, young man was.

       "RADHA! RADHA!"

       Arms outstretched, Sean ran into Radhael's embrace. Tears flowing from their eyes, they hugged and kissed, not wanting to let the other go.

       Crushed in between them was Teddy, and the bear had a joyful grin on his face as well.

 

       While the angel was taking a bath, Sean had taken Radha's garments for cleaning in the washing machine. Although the child was able to wash away most of the dirt and grime from the seraph's robes, the large stain at the back remained untouched. It disturbed Sean to see that blot. It looked so much like blood. Seeing that he couldn't get rid of the stain, the little boy instead took his mother's white bathrobe from the cabinet.

       A few hours later, after a quick TV dinner, Radhael and Sean lay on his parents' bed, with the child suckling lustfully on the angel's nipple.

       When he finally had his fill, Sean closed the seraph's bathrobe and cuddled the angel.

       "I never thought I'd see you again, Radha," the boy sighed happily as the seraph lovingly bussed the crown of his head. "Why did you leave without saying goodbye?"

       To this query, Radhael shrugged in reply.

       "Don't give me that! Please, Radhael. I have to know. Perhaps, we could speak mind to mind, so it'll be easier for you."

       The angel breathed in deeply and then answered in halting English, "I had to go. I'm sorry."

       "But why? Was it something I said or did? Did I hurt your feelings in some way?"

       "No, child. It wasn't something you did."

       "Was it Papa then? Did he hurt you?"

       Radhael carefully shielded his thoughts from the inquisitive little boy. Though months had passed, the pain Methos had inflicted remained fresh inside his mind and heart.

       "No. I...I just couldn't stay with you any longer."

       "Why not?"

       "I've grown too...fond...of you and your Papa. It was never supposed to happen this way."

       "You love Papa, don't you, Radha."

       The angel hesitated for a moment, before slowly nodding.

       "Something happened between you two."

       "...Yes."

       "This baby you're carrying..." Sean caressed the swelling of the seraph's belly. "It's Papa's, isn't it?"

       "WHO'S CARRYING YOUR FATHER'S BABY?"

       Both Radha and Sean were startled by that sharp voice. Their eyes widened in shock at the ominous form of the Highlander standing beside the lift. The katana he held was still dripping with the blood of the Immortal he had slain.

       "Mama..." stammered Sean as he knelt in front of the frightened angel, hoping to shield him from his mother's view. "Please. I can explain."

       "Who is this?" the Scot demanded, pointing to the cowering figure behind his son with his katana. "Haven't I told you never let strangers inside our home?"

       "But he's not a stranger, Mama. He's a friend. Mama...please..."

       As the Highlander approached the bed, at that moment, his furious dark brown eyes met terrified violet ones. Before Sean knew what was happening, his mother's arm zipped past him, missing his face by a hair's breadth. To the child's horror, Duncan had grabbed a fistful of the seraph's silken tresses and fiercely yanked him down to the floor.

       "YOU!" the Scot declared in shock, seeing his own face peering up at him.

       "Mama, don't hurt him!" Sean clambered off the bed, but before the little boy could get close, Duncan backhanded him to the floor.

       With a wail, Radha made to run to the child's aid. The Highlander, however, jerked the angel back. Although in pain, Radhael desperately reached for the jumble of hatred and chaos that was the Scot's mind.

       _&lt;Don't hurt Sean! Please don't hurt him!&gt;_ the angel pleaded earnestly.

       "I thought I had gotten rid of you for good!" Duncan hissed in fury. "You're the one who did this to me! It was you all along!"

       _&lt;I had to do it...for the sake of your son and lover! I had to bring you back to them! They need you, Highlander!&gt;_

       "I felt myself slipping away, but you had to bring me back, and for what? More of this hell? THEY need ME?" With a sarcastic laugh, the Scot ran his palm over the small swelling on Radha's belly. "It seems you made yourself quite at home in my family." He grabbed a handful of skin at the top of the swelling and squeezed hard, eliciting a cry from the seraph's lips. "How many times did my husband fuck you in our bed? HOW MANY?"

       A dazed Sean slowly sat up, shaking his aching head, just in time to see his mother drive a hard fist into Radhael's belly. To his horror, Duncan pummeled the helpless angel with fierce kicks and blows to the body.

       "MAMA, STOP IT!" Shaking off the cobwebs, Sean hurried to the seraph's side, wrapping his arms protectively around Radha's neck.

       "SEAN, GET OUT OF THE WAY!" muttered Duncan, katana in hand.

       "No, I won't!" the child cried stubbornly. "For the love of God, Mama, why are you doing this? He has done nothing to you!"

       "Nothing, you say? This fool is the source of all my anguish! It was this naive little idiot who got me raped, not once but twice!"

       "What are you talking about?"

       The Scot's fist somehow broke through Sean's defenses and he rapped the angel on the head. Wailing in terror, Radhael pressed close to the little boy.

       "Think, Sean! You were always the smart one," the Highlander demanded. "That day I died, you told me to stop acting like a child. Well, I did you an even bigger favor. I got rid of that part of me you hated so much."

       Sean stared at the two men in shock, realizing now that they were one and the same -- that both angel and Immortal comprise his mother, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.

       "I was angry then, Mama!" argued Sean. "I didn't mean what I said! Oh, Mama! By getting rid of Radhael, don't you know that you've lost your capacity to feel, to care, to love? This isn't you!"

       "THIS is who I should be. I am sick and tired of being hurt! I hate being abused! I do not want to cry anymore!" The Highlander gripped his katana tight. "Better that it all ends here, right now!"

       Duncan raised his sword, about to take the angel's life, and Sean's along with him. Not knowing what else to do, the child shielded Radhael with his body.

       There was a loud clang as the Highlander's blade met cold steel, not warm flesh. Daring to look up, Sean saw that Methos has placed himself between them and the angry Scot.

       "I can't let you do this, Duncan," the ancient declared. "If you kill Radhael, you too will die."

       "Protecting your little boyfriend, Methos?" sneered Duncan at him, breaking the hold.

       Methos waved his sword menacingly. "You know what I'm saying is true. Radha is the core of your being -- the essence, the heart of Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Destroy him and you destroy yourself."

       "I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" the Highlander roared in anguish. "I'm sick of all this killing, this pain! I'd rather be dead, you hear me? DEAD!"

       At once, the two Immortals clashed. At first, Methos didn't want to hurt his lover, choosing to go on the defensive. But as Duncan's swipes became more focused, intent on ending his life, the ancient had no choice but to fight back. At first, the two men were equally matched. Soon, however, it was Methos who has the upper hand. Using an ancient sword trick, he successfuly disarmed the Scot. Grabbing Duncan's wrist, Methos twisted his arm back, forcing him down to his elbow and knees.

       "NOOOO! STOP IT! STOP IT!"

       As one, Methos and Duncan turned in the direction of that plaintive cry.

       Radhael was weeping uncontrollably, hands clamped over his ears. The anger and the madness around him was driving him insane. Shaking his head violently, the angel cried over and over again, "NO! NO! NO!"

       Methos was horrified to see the blood coursing between Radha's legs.

       With a keening wail, the seraph broke free from Sean's grasp and fled from the loft.

       "RADHA, NO!" Sean cried, following after the angel.

       The ancient granted the Scot an angry side glance and hurried after his son. Duncan just knelt on the floor, staring at the descending lift. He felt something warm on his face. He raised his hand to his cheek and found it wet with his tears.

       Outside the dojo, Methos nearly bumped into Sean, who stood at the top of the stairs.

       "PAPA! HELP HIM!" the child begged his father. "PLEASE HELP HIM!"

       The seraph was kneeling on the pavement, screaming in agony. His arms were wrapped around his belly.

       "STAY HERE!" Methos ordered his son, rushing dow the stairs. As he slowly approached the stricken angel, he called, "RADHA!"

       "STAY AWAY FROM ME!" the angel screamed back.

       As he said this, wings unfurled from Radhael's back, tearing the bathrobe to shreds. However, the feathers were no longer as white as snow, but of blackest ebony. Methos gasped at the sight of those dark wings. Like him, millennia back, Radhael has now become a fallen angel, a being cursed by God.

       "I love you, Methriel! You and your son!" sobbed Radhael, tears of blood streaming from his violet eyes. "From now until forever, I will always love you!"

       Before Methos could stop him, the disgraced seraph took off, disappearing into the dark storm clouds in the sky.

       "RADHA! RADHA!" Sean shouted at the heavens. "DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE US!"

       Methos gripped his son's arms and made the boy face him. "Let's get your things. I'm taking you to your Uncle Joe."

       "But what about Radha?"

       "I'm going to look for him, Sean, and I'm taking your mother with you. But I have to be sure that you'll be safe. There's a storm brewing and I can't leave you alone here."

       "Why can't I go with you?"

       "This is between me, Radha and your mother. Everything that's happened...this was all my fault right from the beginning. Things just came to a head."

       "Radha's baby... He said you're the father."

       Methos closed his eyes. "Yes, but he did not...have the child...the way that you think. Certainly not out of love."

       "What do you mean?" Sean asked in confusion. "I don't understand."

       "I wanted to drive Radhael away," the ancient admitted. "He had fallen deeply in love with me. He has been in love with me for so very, very long. I love him too, but it was a love that was never meant to be. Though Radha fought for this love, I was too afraid. In the end, I had to make him leave, so I...I hurt him."

       Sean was stunned by his father's admission. "You raped him? Oh, Papa! How could you do such a terrible thing to him? That night, I heard a mind scream. I thought I heard it wrong, because of the love aura surrounding your room. Radha must have blocked his pain when I tried to probe his mind."

       "Even when I hurt him, he still forgave me, you know? That is why I have to do this not only for us, but also for the child Radhael is carrying inside him. That child is Radha's blessed gift to you."

       Sean was about to speak, but Methos placed a hand to his lips. "Please don't ask me anymore! I'll explain everything when I get back."

       Reluctantly, Sean nodded.

       There was a glimmer of tears in Methos' eyes as he ruffled his son's hair. Smiling, he said, "Go talk to your Uncle Joe. He knows everything. It's a hell of a story, almost like a fairy tale -- a tale about two angels who dared to love as humans do."

       "You'll bring him back, won't you, Papa?"

       "I'll try. But I think it would be better if I brought Radhael back to you as your mother Duncan. What do you say?"

       There was a hopeful smile on Sean's face. "Yes. I'd like that."

       "Come on! Let's pack your stuff. Then, Duncan and I will head out to the cabin."

       "What if Mama doesn't want to go with you?"

       "Then I'll knock him out and throw him in the backseat. It's that simple."

       Sean burst into laughter as they went back up to the loft.

       However, as they raised the gates of the lift, there was no one inside. A quick inspection of the building only confirmed what they already knew.

       Duncan MacLeod had disappeared.


	12. Chapter 12

 

** CHAPTER TWELVE **

 

        Nothing.

       Trapped all alone in the violent white emptiness of the blizzard battering the cabin, that one word reverberated inside the mind of Duncan MacLeod. Dazed and confused, the Scot had no recollection of how he managed the swift yet treacherous journey to the island, nor could he remember the violence that erupted from him as he methodically destroyed all his belongings. Lying on the floor amidst the destruction he had caused, that word has become a hoarsely-spoken mantra to the questions crossing his mind.

       _Did you find something?_

       "Nothing."

       _What are you looking for?_

       "Nothing."

       _How do you feel?_

       "Nothing."

       And yet tears continued to flow unbidden from his eyes. Duncan wanted so much for the tears to stop -- to call forth the anger that had lashed out at his son and the entity who was once a part of him. And Methos. Yes, he musn't forget that traitor, the betrayer of their love.

       But, strangely, he felt...nothing. Nothing at all. As if his heart had been replaced by a block of ice. Still, the tears came.

       Duncan wondered if these tears were his -- _What did they call him? Radha?_ he thought. Was he reflecting the seraph's pain and anguish?

       There was a glint of something sharp on the floor. The Highlander saw that it was a shard of the mirror he had broken. He grimaced as the mirror reflected back at him the horrid wound around his neck. Reaching for the glass, Duncan gripped it tightly, pressing the sharp point to the wires connecting his head to his body. Expecting pain, the Scot was surprised when he easily removed one hook. There was no pain. Nothing at all. What he felt instead was the trickle of the Quickening and his life pouring out of him.

       Before he could remove another wire, the mirror glinted once more, reflecting the eerie glow coming from the clothes he had thrown out of the dresser. Trembling, the Scot reached under the pile of torn clothing, his fingers closing around something hard and warm. Pulling his hand out, he saw that what he was holding was a golden ring, shining with an unearthly light.

       There was a powerful force emanating from the ring, willing him to touch it with both hands.

       For once, the nothingness inside his heart was replaced by something besides anger. Fear. Duncan was afraid. He wanted to throw the ring away, but his right hand wouldn't let go, seemingly glued to it. The Highlander desperately tried to resist this power, as his left hand was lifted from the floor. The ring's desire, however, would not be denied. With a painful twist of his arm, an unseen force jerked his wrist, his left hand clamping on the ring.

       At once, the Scot's consciousness was jolted out of his body, sending him flying through a shining white void. The light blinded him for a moment that he closed his eyes.

       _When he awoke, the Highlander was leaning against a boulder-sized quartz, his fingers listlessly padding the waters of the crystal blue lake before him. Gazing down into the water, somehow, it did not surprise Duncan to find that he had violet eyes._

       _"Radhael?" a gentle voice interrupted his thoughts._

       _"Please," he replied beggingly, at once assuming his other identity as the Angel of Lost Innocence. "I just want to be left alone."_

       _"Radha. My beloved Radhael." The speaker sat down on the rock, his shiny white robes brushing softly against the seraph's face._

       _Slowly, Radhael gazed up, irked by this intrusion, only to immediately cast his eyes humbly down. "Father, forgive me for my rudeness. I did not know it was You."_

       _The Father laughed lightly. "How would you know, child? It's not everyday that God Himself gets down from His throne to mingle with His children. Besides, I know how much you fear Metatron. A burning pineapple he might seem to you, but he loves you as though you were his own son. His youngest was very mischievous and inquisitive, you know. Pesky is the right term for it. Just like you."_

       _"I didn't know that," Radha answered with deep regret. "I was such a child. I really must apologize to him."_

       _"There's no need. He understands. In fact, it was he who approached me, at the insistent behest of Michael, Raphael and Gabriel."_

       _"But I don't need anything, Father. I am quite happy here."_

       _The Father placed gentle fingertips on the seraph's chin, willing the young angel to look up. "Oh, but your eyes betray you, little one. Your beautiful eyes are the windows to your heart. Tell me, Radha. Is Raphael's healing lacking?"_

       _Radhael unconsciously tucked his robes between his legs, remembering deep, agonizing pains. "No, Father. It's just that..." As he lowered his gaze, his eyes fell upon the wounds on his Father's wrists. "Oh, no! You're hurt! Let me get Raphael for You!"_

       _Before the seraph could depart, his Father took his hand, urging him to sit down once more. "It's nothing, Radha, my son. No need to call Raphael."_

       _"But Father..."_

       _"I could heal these wounds, but I do not want to. They remind Me of how it felt to be human. I've seen so many wondrous things during My brief sojourn on Earth. Methriel was right about humans. Their capacity to love is no different than ours. In fact, with all the hardships they endure, it has only made their capacity to love even greater. However, even a loving heart could grow weary because of pain and suffering. That is why I made that...sacrifice...for them. They belong here in Heaven with us. With My death and resurrection, I opened the Gates of Heaven, so that when their time comes, it will be easy for them to return home."_

       _Radha smiled wanly. "I am so glad."_

       _Looking at the seraph, the Father carefully asked, "Do you want Me to return your heart to its true home?"_

       _There was a quizzical expression on the young angel's face._

       _"I am talking about Methriel."_

       _Forlorn, Radha laid his head on his Father's lap. "Love cannot find a home in a heart that is filled with fear."_

       _"And, unfortunately, it was I who had planted the fear inside him. However, love can change things -- even remove the fear and cynicism from the heart of our lost archangel."_

       _"Father, it's been too long. Knowing Methriel, he has forgotten me already."_

       _"The mind maybe, but never the heart." He gave the seraph a meaningful glance. "Are you telling Me you want to give up?"_

       _"I don't know! But I don't think I have the patience for this any longer. I don't even know if he would still love me...ruined as I am now."_

       _"Didn't Methriel say that he would continue to love you, despite your lost innocence? I think it is you who are afraid. Tell Me, Radha. Do you love Methriel?"_

       _The young angel thought for a long moment. He closed his eyes, but he was unable to stop the fall of teardrops down his cheeks. Knowing that he cannot lie, Radha nodded._

       _"It is your love that will save him." The Father advised, "Do not give up, child. You are destined to be together. I see that clearly now. Yours is a fate that defies and yet is still for the greater good of Heaven."_

       _"Father, I'm confused."_

       _"One heart, one love -- that is what you and Methriel are. One is not complete -- is lost -- without the other. Strangely enough, it seems the fate of many lost souls rely on your being united in heart and spirit. To keep you apart would not only be a disaster for the two of you, but it would also mean the closure of a new path of salvation for the lost."_

       _Caressing the seraph's cheek, the Father said, "I know how confusing this sounds, but even I do not understand it completely Myself. What you and Methriel have...it is dictated by the powers of nature, of the universe itself, and even I must surrender to her needs." Bidding the angel to look into His eyes, He continued, "This will not be an easy task, especially on your part. The burden, it seems, falls heavily on your shoulders. But I have faith in you, Radhael. Are you up to the challenge?"_

       _"If I agree to this, what's going to happen to me? What will you do?"_

       _"Quite simple, and it's the only task I'll have to perform -- I will remake you into a human, Radha." The Father gave the seraph a reassuring smile. "A little baby with innocence regained. You will be given the opportunity to start all over again."_

       _"But if You remake me, I'll forget about Methriel," argued Radha. "Even if I do eventually remember, I don't think I could find him during a mortal's lifetime."_

       _"Trust in love, Radhael. It has always found a way to bring you and Methriel back together. You are very special, child, in so many magical ways. Trust in love, Radha, and trust in yourself." The Father then asked, "Well, My beloved seraph, what is your decision?"_

       _Radhael did not have to think twice. Bowing his head, he answered, "Let Your holy will be done, Father."_

       _A tender hand was laid on his head. "As you wish, Radhael," the Father said, his voice fading away as the whole world slowly turned to black. "Go, My beloved seraph, with My love and blessing."_

       _Suddenly, a cold wind blew. Daring to open his eyes, he found himself not within the warm womb of a human female, but lying in the snow, alone, in the middle of the forest._

       What am I doing here? _Radha asked in confusion and growing terror. _I'm supposed to be inside my mother's womb. This is a mistake! I'm going to die here. How am I going to find Methriel?

       _Helpless in his new infant form, the angel wailed in fright, flailing his tiny fists. He didn't want to die. _Methriel! Methriel! _his mind screamed, unable to form the name with his undeveloped tongue and vocal cords._

       _"Ho there!" a voice suddenly cried. "Did you hear that?"_

       _"No, I do not hear anything," another voice replied._

       No, do not go! _Radhael screamed._ I'm here! Please don't leave me!

       _Then, a kindly face of a woman loomed before him. "What are you doing here, child, and in the middle of a storm? What fool woman would leave you here?"_

       _As he was lifted into strong, warm arms, he saw another, older woman peer down at him. "He's a child of the fairy folk! A changeling! You must leave it here lest bad luck befall us all!"_

       _"Bah, Sarah! You and your stories of the wee folk. Do you not have a heart for this poor child? His mother probably abandoned him."_

       _"Do not scoff, Kate! The wee folk exist, I tell you, and this baby is one of them!"_

       _Thankfully, Kate ignored the ranting and raving harridan who desired his abandonment and death. Playing with his full lower lip, she asked, "What am I to do with you, child? I have children of my own and I do not have the means to care for another. Wait! I know! I will find a new home for you, and I think I know who will make fine parents for you! They have lost their bonny son this winter solstice evening. I am sure they will love to have you." Kissing his cheek, she whispered, "Sleep now, little one. The next time you awake, you will be at your new home."_

       _Weary as he was, Radha did as he was told, giving in to peaceful slumber. When he awoke, it was to the distant sound of Sarah's dire prophesying. As his eyelids fluttered open, the seraph found himself staring at a wooden ceiling. He was lying in a small crib, covered by a warm blanket._

       _"That child is a changeling, my Lord," he heard Sarah argue. "A demon! You must leave him to the dogs! He will only cause ill fortune to fall upon you and your clan!"_

       _"I will not hear any more of this!" a booming voice declared.  "The child is my son and I will not hear you spout this drivel about him! Guards! I am banishing this witch! Take her as far away from Glenfinnan as you possibly can! I will not have anyone speak ill of my bairn!"_

       _There were sounds of struggle and Sarah's screams, until finally there was only silence. Radha waited breathlessly, unsure of what his fate would be._

       _Then, he felt his breath catch in his throat, seeing the warm, loving faces of a man and woman. There was such joy in the woman's eyes, and pain. Radha could clearly see that she had suffered greatly this eve, but suddenly found herself a recipient of a precious blessing. Giving her a toothless grin, he raised his little arms to her._

       _"Oh look, Ian!" she exclaimed to her husband, picking him up. "He is such a charming, bonny child!"_

       _"Aye, Mary!" Ian replied. "He is our son and I will not allow any man or woman to say otherwise." The man gazed down at him once more, his face beaming with love and pride. "My son and my heir, you shall be. A great warrior and leader of my clan." Kissing his brow, Ian said, "You shall be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod."_

       _At that moment, Mary let her robes dip from her left shoulder to reveal a full breast. As his lips enclosed around the woman's nipple, Radhael closed his eyes, at last giving in to his child's nature. As he did so, he completely forgot that he was once a seraph. What was imprinted in his mind was his new name -- Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod._

 

       Duncan watched as his life unfolded before his eyes. His angelic past forgotten, for awhile, it seemed as if he was destined to become a great warrior. A fatal thrust of a sword ended all that and reawakened him to a life of Immortality. How ironic it was that his father had banished him for being a forest demon, not knowing that his son was, in fact, a seraph made human.

       For four hundred years, the Highlander wandered and blundered through time, learning about life and from the mistakes he had made. He laughed and drank with the best of men, loved and made love to the most beautiful women. Strangely though, through it all, Duncan remained a true innocent, seeing the moral world in two colors  only -- black and white. He fought for the good and vanquished the evil with his Eastern sword, just like the Archangel Michael. By then, Michael had become regarded as a church saint and not his fellow angel who once fiercely looked after his well-being.

       All this changed, however, on March 6, 1995, in a small flat in Paris -- when he had felt that unique kiss of Immortal presence like the heat of the summer sun upon his face.

       An offered beer, those all-knowing green gold eyes, that warm smile... Of course, there was that welcome.

       _"Mi casa es su casa."_

       Remembering how his heart had leaped and pounded in his chest that day, it was only now that Duncan realized, that at that very minute, he had finally come home. Unfortunately, he didn't know it back then.

       In the years that followed, the Scot wandered and blundered his way through his relationship with Methos. It amazed him how many times he came close to losing the ancient, the fiasco with the Horsemen the worst one of all. But Methos, with his dry wit and cynicism, helped him to see the world in a different light. Life was never black and white, but in shades of gray. Once judge and jury, Duncan now learned to look at every situation more carefully before being quick to raise his sword.

       So many things came between them. However, it was death and depression that nearly drove them apart. Having made too many enemies, one of them a demon who had tricked him into killing his beloved student, Duncan wanted to retreat into a world of solitude -- where none of his friends would be used against him. For all intents and purposes, that was the second time that Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod died -- the day when he had said his farewell to his dear friends.

       Strange, that it was a drunken confession of love in an alleyway and a bullet through his head that had brought him back to life.

       No, Duncan thought. Resurrected that part of him that had never been afraid, that had always fought back against insurmountable odds. All for the sake of love.

       Innocence... It was ironic how his chastity seemed so important to him. For awhile, it seemed his innocence was the only thing important to Methos as well. True, he had given his body to Aric and Cyrus so he could learn the mysteries of the flesh to be able to please the ancient and, later on, to Cassandra's henchmen in order to save his son. In retrospect, Duncan realized that they had not taken everything -- certainly not his spirit and definitely not his capacity to love. Though his flesh was tainted, his soul remained pure. It was only to Methos that he had surrendered everything. Well, maybe not everything. There was still one last thing that the ancient Immortal had not claimed.

       At that thought, with a gasp, Duncan sat up in shock, just as agonizing pain shot through the region between his legs going up to his lower body. Through that brave angel he had so cruelly rejected, he HAD given EVERYTHING to Methos. Now, he was in danger of losing it all -- his family, his heart and soul, his life.

       Grabbing his jacket, the Highlander got to his feet. Opening the door, he rushed out into the stormy, snowy night.

       He was totally unaware that the ring of gold was now firmly affixed to the back of his head, glowing with divine light.

 

       With gritted teeth, Methos plowed his Range Rover through the storm, heading up the mountain trail. He ignored any attempts by rangers to hail him. His main concern was to find both Duncan and Radhael in time.

       Before he could reach the lake, the strong winds caused a large oak to fall right into his path. Methos turned the wheel and stepped on the brakes. The Range Rover skidded to a halt, its side crashing into the tree.

       "Damn it!" the ancient shouted in frustration as he got out.

       To his dismay, the road was totally blocked. He gazed at the mountainside, gauging if he could make it by the longer route. But it was too steep and too slippery to climb, especially in this weather.

       In despair, Methos just found himself falling to his knees, though the frigid wind battered his body and chilled him to the bone.

       "Father, I never asked You for anything in the five thousand years I've lived on Earth," Methos prayed. "Even when Alexa lay dying, I never asked for Your help, because I know that Your ears are deaf to the cries of a condemned soul like me. But now, Lord, I am here on my knees and at Your mercy. I'm begging you. I must find Duncan and Radha before it's too late. Please, Father! I have no one else to turn to but You. Grant Your condemned angel this one wish. Please help me find them!"

       As he prayed, the ancient did not notice that he was glowing with the intense power of the Quickening, shielding his body from the storm. Guided by the Divine, the power invoked a startling transformation.

       The fabric of Methos' jacket began to unravel, creating two slits through which beautiful ebony wings grew. The Immortal gasped in surprise, seeing that he had wings again.

       Tears of gratitude trickling down his cheeks, Methos whispered, "Thank you, Father!", and he soared into the sky.

 

       Guided by an unknown force, Duncan's feet led him to the cave that once served as the home of one of his teachers, Carl the Hermit. As he stood at the cave's mouth, he saw a light at the end, as well as hear hoarse breathing and weak cries of pain. Carefully, the Highlander made his way through the rocks until he reached the center.

       A dim light was being emitted by the pitiful, naked figure cringing beside the boulder. Duncan was horrified to see that the angel was bleeding copiously between his legs. Remembering the violence he had inflicted upon the seraph, he knew that this was his fault.

       "Are you here to kill me, Highlander?" Radhael asked him, his anguished violet eyes filled with blood tears. Protectively, he wrapped his black wings around his trembling, aching form. "You may take my life since I know how much you hate me. But I beg you to wait. My child... I don't want him to die with me."

       "The child is dying, Radhael," Duncan replied, his voice flat, totally devoid of emotion to his ears.

       "HE WILL NOT DIE!" the seraph insisted. A cry escaped Radha's lips as he clutched the small swelling on his belly. The Scot himself felt the pain lance through his body. "This baby is my gift to Sean. Without this child, your son wil not be complete. HE MUST NOT DIE!"

       The Highlander nodded as he took a step towards the weeping angel. "I know, Radha. That is why I'm here to help you."

       Radhael laughed bitterly. "Why would you want to help me, especially after all the misery I put you through."

       "Because we are one and the same. Your pains are my pains. My life is your life." There was growing understanding on the angel's face, realizing what Duncan was struggling to say. "You gave me your Immortality, so I could live, because you couldn't bear to see Methos and Sean suffer. It's what I would have done...if you were still a part of me. But now, you are more mortal than angel, and you and the child you carry inside you will die if we do not do something about it."

       "'We'? What are you trying to say?"

       Duncan knelt down and embraced the stunned seraph. Tears falling from his eyes, he whispered, "I love you, Radha. Thank you so much for the strength and courage you have given me. Thank you for the wonderful little boy you helped me bear and raise. And I thank you deeply for the love. Without it -- without you, I would never have met Methos."

       "Duncan?" Radhael was lost for words.

       "We belong together, Radha. You and I are one. I accept you. Come with me, sweet angel. Be a part of me once more. Together, as one being, let us return to the hearth and home that is our beloved Methriel and our son Sean."

       Radhael kissed the Highlander tenderly on the cheek as they began to merge. "I love you, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Never again shall we be parted from each other and from him and the gentle child whom we love. Together we shall be. Always. Forever."

 

       Methos' heart drummed like thunder inside his chest. Having come from the cabin and seeing its interior in shambles, he searched frantically for Duncan and Radha. But with absolutely no clue as to where they might be, the ancient was becoming desperate, dreading what may have happened to his two lovers.

       "Father, please help me!" Methos cried to the heavens as he braved the fierce storm winds. "I must find them before it's too late!"

       Suddenly, the storm clouds above the mountain cleared a round opening in the sky. In the center of that opening was a shining star, its brilliance comparable to the Star at Bethlehem. Methos nearly laughed and burst into tears at the same time as the star's light shone down upon a spot on the side of the mountain.

       Methos hastened to the location the star pointed at -- a small cave partially hidden by brush. Just as he neared the entrance, the ancient heard an anguished cry.

       "Duncan! Radha!" declared Methos, running inside. "I'm coming!"

       Reaching the middle of the cave, however, the ancient hesitated at the sight of the lone figure writhing on the ground.

       "Duncan..." the older Immortal queried warily. "Where's Radha? What did you do to him?"

       "It's...it's all right. Both of us...we're right here," the Highlander panted, gripping his aching belly.  Despite the pain, Duncan somehow managed to smile in reassurance.

       That same instant, the halo at the back of the Scot's head appeared, glowing with a bright light. Methos' jaw dropped, seeing the golden brown highlights in Duncan's dark hair. The wound around his lover's neck had vanished.

       "I am whole now, Methriel," Duncan said slowly. "Radha and I are one. I know now who I truly am. I remember everything." The Highlander perused the ancient from head to toe. "I'm so happy to see that you are in your angelic form again."

       There was a strong contraction that the younger Immortal cried out in agony. Willing his wings to disappear, Methos hastily dropped down to his knees beside the Scot.

       "Oh, God! I don't understand!" Duncan exclaimed in despair and confusion. "I thought things would be alright now that Radhael and I have united. The child... Sweet Jesus! Something's wrong with my baby!"

       Although panic and fear was threatening to overwhelm him, Methos forced himself to be calm. Undoing the buttons of his lover's pants, he said, "Let's get these jeans off you." Duncan raised his hips, allowing the ancient to yank his trousers and briefs down his legs. Folding the jeans, the Old Man placed them under the Scot's head as a pillow.

       Methos was stunned to see that what was once a tiny scar beneath the Highlander's privates was now a dilated opening. Carefully palpating the swelling over the Scot's belly, he gasped in shock.

       "Duncan, the baby hasn't turned," the Old Man told his lover. "And there's something else. It's getting bigger."

       "What..." stammered Duncan. "What do you mean it's getting bigger?"

       "I could feel it. The child is getting bigger inside your body, like it's maturing within you. At the rate it's enlarging, your body won't be able to hold it."

       "Oh, Methos! What are we going to do? I don't want my baby to die! And the pain is killing me!"

       The ancient remembered the midline scar on Duncan's abdomen, but quickly shook his head. He didn't have the instruments to do an operation as delicate as this.

       Cupping his weeping lover's face in his hands, Methos said firmly, "Duncan, love! I want you to do as I say. I want you to breathe, alright? Steady, deep breaths." The Immortal demonstrated, breathing through his lips. To his relief, the Highlander automatically obeyed, breathing at the same time as the elder Immortal. "When you feel a contraction coming, take a very deep breath and then push."

       There was alarm in Duncan's sweet doe eyes. Methos could see that interspersed within the brown color of his irises were violet tinges.

       "Are you telling me we're going to do this the...the natural way?" asked Duncan in disbelief and fear. "Can't you just cut me open? I'm Immortal anyway. I'll heal. That's what happened when I gave birth to Sean."

       "Listen to me, Duncan!" the ancient insisted. "That first birth, Lord Morpheus was with you. I don't have that kind of power. You may be Immortal, but I will not put you through the agonizing torture of a Cesarean without the benefit of anesthesia or proper surgical equipment. Besides, I might kill the baby if I do so."

       The Highlander sobbed, "Methos, I've never been so afraid in my life!"

       "Have faith, love...in God and in me. I swear I'll get both of you out of this safely."

       As Methos positioned himself between the Highlander's legs, Duncan just found himself laughing at the absurdity of their situation. "If we get out of this, we should think about attending Lamaze classes."

       The ancient laughed as well, impressed with the courage of his lover. "And spend a lot of money in the process? I actually invented the technique. Lamaze just beat me to the name and patent. But unlike that good doctor, I have a card in my favor."

       "And what's that?"

       Methos grinned, cracking his knuckles, ready for the difficult task ahead. "I'm an archangel."

 

       As the blizzard raged outside the cave, a different struggle was being waged inside, illuminated by the light of the lone star shining in the heavens.

       Unable to bear the agony, Duncan screamed for the sixth time.

       Methos, who was sweating profusely, felt his heart skip a beat. He thought he would die of a heart attack right at that moment. Somehow, he managed to remark wryly, "If you don't stop screaming, MacLeod, I'll gag you. I told you -- breathe and push, not breathe and scream. You're not directing that much needed energy to pushing our baby down. Everything is being expended in your screams. I swear you sound like a banshee."

       To this, Duncan retorted, "I'll scream as much as I want, you idiot! Damn it! It hurts like hell!"

       "Be patient, Angel. I already have one leg out. Just one more leg and I could pull the baby out."

       The Scot pounded his fists on the ground in pain and frustration, eyes tightly shut, his tears mixing with the sweat trickling from his brow. "Who ever thought childbirth is such hellish torture? I swear, Methos, after this, I'll never have sex with you ever again. That's a promise!"

       Methos wanted to giggle at that reply. "There was a time, Angel, when you were so curious about sex."

       Duncan shook his head vehemently. That gesture reminded the ancient of the stubborn seraph who was the divine aspect of his lover.

       "Not anymore!" the Highlander exclaimed. "I'm swearing off sex! Uh, uh! No more! No, no, no!" There was a strong spasm and the Scot screamed once more.

       "Duncan, stop it!" cried Methos. "You're making me nervous! If I die of cardiac arrest, no one's going to help you!"

       Closing his eyes, the Old Man laid his hand on Duncan's belly, massaging it gently in a circular motion.

       _Father,_ he prayed inwardly. _Please help me. Help me save my beloved and my child!_

       At that same moment, Duncan also was praying, _Please, Father. I beg you. Help me and my baby!_

       Then, a kind of meditative trance fell upon the two Immortals. Lost in the rapture of their ardent praying, they were unaware that the star had descended from the sky and entered the cave. If they had opened their eyes, they would have seen that the star was actually a glowing halo. The halo fixed itself to the back of Methos' head, giving the ancient the extra power he needed.

       Reaching inside the Scot's opening, Methos found the baby's other leg. Hooking it with his finger, he eased it out. Pushing down on Duncan's belly, he pulled the child out. As the baby emerged, the halo slowly faded away.

       Smiling in joy and relief, the ancient declared, "Look here, Duncan. I have something here for you that I'm sure will make you change your mind about not having sex."

       A happy cry escaped Duncan's lips as his lover laid the baby in his arms. "Methos! He's so beautiful! He looks just like Sean!"

       "No," the Old Man said fondly, laying his jacket over the child. "He looks just like you. We have another son, Duncan. What do you want to name him?"

       The Highlander kissed the yawning child on the brow. To their delight, the baby opened his eyes briefly to reveal beautiful green gold orbs. When the child gave an impatient, hungry cry, Duncan eased him close to his chest. Feeling the tiny nipple brush against his cheek, the baby turned his head and clamped down on the tit, suckling greedily.

       "But he already has a name, remember?" Duncan reminded his lover. "This child of Radhael's... No, since we are the same person, this beautiful baby is OUR gift to Sean. This little boy will be a part of our son, that part of him that's missing. So naturally his name will also be Sean."

       "But I still think of him as our second child, and a very special one at that. Humor me, love. Let me give him a name."

       The Highlander smiled and nodded. "Very well. What do you want to call him?"

       Methos leaned down and bussed the child, before bestowing his lover a tender kiss. "Yes, I have the perfect name for our baby. Innocence. Sweet Innocence."

 

       Exhausted by their ordeal, the two Immortals somehow managed to fall asleep.

       When Methos woke up briefly, the storm had at last abated. What surprised him, though, was seeing the child that his slumbering lover cradled close to his body, illuminated by a soft glow behind him.

       In the few hours that they had slept, little Innocence had grown. By Methos' approximation, their son was now one and a half years old. At the rate he was growing, the child will reach the age of five by sunrise. Exactly the same age as Sean.

       Still feeling drowsy, Methos crept closer to his lover and son, wrapping his arm around them both.

       Feeling the elder's hand on his shoulder, Duncan's eyelids fluttered open. Methos was awed by the beauty of the Highlander, a warm glow on his cheeks. The Old Man thought it a shame that all men, him included, would never know how wonderful it was to bear a child. Duncan was blooming with love and that unexplainable quality that only mothers possessed.

       A tiny smile quirking up the corners of his lips, the Highlander leaned forward and kissed Methos. As he lovingly caressed the older man's cheek, he muttered sleepily, "My dear Methriel! You've got your halo back. I guess you are angel material after all."

       Methos was startled by that remark, until he reached behind his head and felt that gold ring. The halo even cast a beam of light upon mother and child, just like the star in the stormy sky. At once, the ancient realized that his halo was that same star.

       Pulling his lover and son close, the ancient replied, "And I have you to thank for that."

       Drifting off into peaceful slumber, the two Immortals did not notice that they were glowing with the power of the Quickening. Beams of light extruded from their backs and that of the child's, linking together, forming an elaborate meshwork.

       In the darkness of the cave, the pristine white wings of the two lovers and their child shimmered with the light of the Divine.


	13. Chapter 13

 

** CHAPTER THIRTEEN **

 

        It took two whole days before the mountain road was cleared of snow and debris.

       "Hurry up, Uncle Joe!" Sean urged the Watcher who sat behind the wheel. "Oh, please hurry!"

       "I'm going as fast as I can!" Joe argued. "If I go any faster, we might have an accident."

       Sean pouted, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at the long road before him.

       Patting his nephew's thigh reassuringly, Joe said, "Don't worry! Just you wait and see. We'll be there in no time. I'm sure your parents will be just fine."

       "I should have gone with Papa. Then, I wouldn't be worried sick about them."

       "Believe me, son, I'm sure they're all right. Nothing's happened to them."

       Sean looked at his uncle doubtfully. "How could you be so certain?"

       "I have faith, Sean." Joe grinned and pointed up to the heavens. "Besides, I know someone's looking out for them."

       Despite his uncle's reassurance, the little boy remained unconvinced. They drove the rest of the way in silence. It was only when the cabin loomed into view that Sean let out a delighted squeal, especially when he saw the familiar figure chopping wood in front of the house.

       As Joe wheeled his jeep to a stop, Sean cried, "Papa! Papa!", and quickly jumped down, running into his father's outstretched arms.

       "How's my handsome little man?" greeted Methos as he hugged and kissed his son.

       The Watcher, who was slowly hobbling after his nephew, was the one who answered, "He was worried sick about you."

       Sean glared balefully at his uncle. Turning to his father, he exclaimed, "You just don't know how much I wanted to come here, but the roads were blocked."

       "There's nothing we can do about it, I'm afraid. Even your mother was beside himself with worry, wanting to get back to you. It was a terrible storm."

       Hesitantly, the child asked, "Papa...what about...where's Mama...and Radha..."

       Methos smiled, ruffling Sean's ebony locks. "Your Mama's fine now, Sean. He and Radha...they kinda had a mutual understanding. He's down by the lake. Why don't you go over there? He has someone he'd like you to meet."

       For awhile, Sean stared at his father quizzically. Then, his face brightened, realizing what the ancient was hinting at. Methos let his son down, slapping him playfully in the butt.

       As he watched his nephew run down to the lake, Joe queried, "Did you notice anything strange out here, Methos?"

       "'Strange', Joe?" Methos asked in turn.

       "Well, there were reports that during the storm, there was one bright shining star that appeared right in this area. Then, it just went down into the mountain and it disappeared without a trace. Some said it was a comet."

       The Old Man laughed. "Oh, that! No, it wasn't a comet. It was the halo I threw into the desert five thousand years ago."

       As Methos hurried after his son, Joe stated, "Oh, your halo!" Realizing how ridiculous that sounded, the Watcher declared, "YOUR HALO? Hey, wait for me!", and followed the ancient.

       Before Sean could reach the lake, the Highlander was walking up the slope, a tiny figure toddling beside him.

       "Mama!" called Sean, making his way towards his mother.

       Noticing the boy's approach, the tiny figure quickly hid behind the Scot. However, as the distance closed between mother and son, Sean suddenly paused, remembering the painful events that took place days ago.

       Duncan immediately sensed his son's apprehension. "Sean? It's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm fine now."

       "Mama...how can I be sure?"

       The Highlander closed his eyes, the memory of the pain he had inflicted upon his little boy still too vivid.

       A golden tear fell from his right eye. "My son, trust in your heart. See me for who I am -- the man and the angel who love you so much."

       A small voice inside him urged Sean to use his psychic powers. With his mind's eye, he looked closely at the Immortal standing before him. At once, tears began to stream down his cheeks at what his mind powers revealed to him -- overlapping images of two men, both beautiful, both with the same gentle, smiling face. The first, however, had dark brown hair and eyes and was wearing modern clothes. The other had golden brown hair and lovely violet eyes and was clad in long white robes. Then, the two images merged until only one man stood before him -- a man with shiny white wings and a glowing halo at the back of his head.

       Sean no longer had any reason to doubt. Weeping, he threw himself into his mother's arms. "Oh, Mama! Thank God you're all right! I'm so sorry I hurt you! I swear I'll be good. I'm not going to lose you again!"

       Duncan was crying as well, as he crushed his son in a bear hug. "I'll never leave you, Sean! You and your father! No matter what happens, I shall always forgive you, because I am your mother and I love you oh so dearly!"

       Watching the touching scene before them, Methos smiled warmly, glad to see that everything was finally all right. Gazing at the Watcher at his side, he saw Joe wipe away the tear from the corner of his eye.

       Mother and son held on to each other for what seemed like an eternity. They would never have broken the embrace if it were not for the insistent tugging on the Scot's duster. Trying to make out the form that was hiding behind his mother, Sean saw shy green gold eyes peering back at him. The owner of those eyes quickly darted behind the Highlander.

       "Mama..." Sean began questioningly.

       "Oh, I almost forgot!" Duncan laughed as he urged the timid child to come forward. But the little boy would not be moved, choosing instead to cling and cower in the protective cover of his mother's long coat. "Sean, I would like you to meet Innocence. But we call him 'Inno' for short. Inno, this is Sean."

       "Is he my brother?" asked Sean eagerly. Curiously, he added, "How come he's as big as me?"

       Duncan paused, at a loss on how he should explain to his son that this gentle child was his divine aspect, the very innocence that was missing from his being. But for them to be united, Sean needed to accept Inno first.

       Then, to the Highlander's surprise, it was Sean who made the first move. Putting his hands behind his back, his son stepped to the side to stand before Inno, who had his thumb popped inside his mouth.

       "Hi, Inno!" Sean greeted cheerfully. "I'm Sean. You want to play with me?"

       At first, Inno just blinked at him. To Duncan's immense relief, he removed his thumb from his mouth and shyly smiled back at Sean.

       "Hello!" Inno greeted back, his sweet voice sounding like tiny bells. "My name is Inno."

       To everyone's amazement, Inno's halo appeared and began to shine brightly. He even unfurled his little wings behind his back.

       Sean quickly took Inno's hand before he could change his mind. "Come on! Let's play!" At this invitation, the two children ran giggling into the snow.

       Joe gaped wide-mouthed at the little angel. Pointing to Inno, he stammered, "That's...that's..."

       "Yeah, I know. An angel, a cherub to be exact," Methos answered matter-of-factly. "And, as I have told you while I was in a trance, Inno is Sean's missing innocence."

       The Watcher found himself grinning mischievously. "I'm glad he doesn't look like you. I still don't buy the fact that you're an archangel."

       "Joe, I'm deeply offended." Seeing his lover approaching them, the ancient commented. "Don't worry, you old goat. You'll see that our next child will look exactly like me."

       Hearing that remark, Duncan said with a grimace, "That is if you could somehow manage to convince me to have sex with you, which is highly unlikely." He turned to his Watcher and good friend. "God, Joe, you just don't know how difficult it is to give birth to a child. It's enough to make you swear off sex for the rest of your life."

       Methos retorted in sarcasm, "As if you could resist my charms. But I'd really like to have a little Methos running around the house, playing halo frisbee with Sean."

       Duncan smiled fondly, looking at Sean and Inno throwing the cherub's halo back and forth between them.

       "Well, what do you say, love?" queried the Old Man again.

       "Maybe you should consider being the one to bear the next child," suggested the Highlander.

       "I'm afraid that's impossible. Even when I was still the Archangel Methriel, I was all-male."

       "Then, sorry about this, Mr. All-Male Archangel Methriel. But I will never let your hard-on poke inside my other opening ever again."

       Overhearing their parents' exchange, the two children stopped playing and toddled over to their elders, hands behind their backs.

       Grinning, Sean quickly quipped, "I want a baby sister!"

       "Me too!" Inno agreed wholeheartedly, nodding his head.

       Before the Highlander could reply, the children ran, giggling, away. Duncan blew the loose strand of hair from his forehead in exasperation. "Why are you all ganging up on me like this?"

       "Don't worry, Mac!" said Joe. "Besides, we could do it right the next time. I could ask Amanda and Anne to hold a baby shower. Just imagine it, MacLeod. All those mothers giving you the benefit of their experience."

       "Yeah, and before you know it, a decade has passed and I have ten kids instead of just two. Uh, uh! No, thank you."

       To their surprise, Inno threw a little tantrum. Running towards his mother, he cried, *"I want a baby sister!"*

       Suddenly, Inno tripped on a rock. Attempting to break the cherub's fall, Sean too slipped in the snow. As the three men looked on in shock, the two children merged into one little boy.

       "Oh, no! SEAN! INNO!" Duncan exclaimed as he and Methos, with Joe slipping and sliding behind them, rushed to the startled child's side.

       Methos, being the faster, reached his son first. "Sean, are you all right? Come on! Speak to me!"

       "Sean, is that you? Inno?" the Scot asked worriedly as he rubbed the child's flushed cheeks. "Son, please answer to me!"

       Then, a bright smile full of awe and wonder formed on the little boy's face as he looked at the world around him. Whispering, he queried, "Is this what it's like to be a child? I never knew that the world could be so beautiful. It's so wonderful, Mama, Papa! You should see what I'm seeing!"

       But his parents did. Through the child's eyes, the world has been transformed into a kaleidoscope of color, with snow fairies flitting through the silver leaves of the trees. Gnomes were waving to their son from the oak. Even Big Bertha the catfish had emerged on the bank, her whiskers swishing happily. So lost were they in the rapture of the moment, that they did not realize that they were actually projecting their thoughts to the stunned Watcher.

       "It's been so long," said Joe in awe. "I've forgotten what it was like."

       "Yes, heaven on earth," Duncan affirmed. "Through the eyes of a child."

       Ever the inquisitive one, however, Methos wanted to make sure that the two children had indeed become one. Grinning at Sean, he asked, "Want to come with me, Sean? There are a lot of new pictures in the Kinky Ladies website."

       "METHOS!" the Highlander exclaimed in shock.

       However, to their immense relief, Sean clung tightly to his mother, his lower lip jutting out. Tears welling up in his eyes, he cried, "Look, Mama! Papa is sooo bad! He wants me to look at those ugly women with the big puppies again!"

       "But you used to like that kind of stuff," argued Methos.

       Sean shook his head. "Uh, uh! Not anymore! I'm still a baby! I'm too young for stuff like that! Why would I want to grow up so fast? Besides, I don't like girls!" Tugging on the Highlander's duster, he asked, "Can we go, Mama? I'm hungry."

       "It seems to me, Sean, that you like your Mama's puppies just fine!"

       Joe burst into laughter as Duncan snapped back, "Watch your mouth, Old Man!"

       Grinning, Methos looked at the little boy clinging to his mother. "Perhaps you're willing to share with your Papa."

       Sean shook his head. "No, no, no! My Mama is mine and only mine! Puppies and all!"

       "Oh, for heaven's sake!" exclaimed Duncan. "I'm going to do something about removing that word from your vocabulary, Sean."

       As the Scot lifted him up in his arms, the little boy timidly asked, "Mama, Papa? Do you mind not calling me 'Sean'?"

       "Why not?"

       "That's a grown-up name and I'm still a baby. Besides, Sean agrees with me. He wants to be a real child."

       "What do you want us to call you?"

       With a happy sigh, the boy laid his head on his mother's shoulder. "Just call me 'Inno', Mama. Sean also likes that name very much. You can call both of us Inno from now on."

 

       That night, Methos was preparing a cup of coffee for himself and his lover. When he walked into the living room with the tray in his hand, he was surprised to see two children sitting on Duncan's lap, suckling on his breasts.

       "What happened?" he asked curiously, laying the tray on the table. "I thought they had completely merged."

       "It seems both Sean and Inno love to feed on me," Duncan answered with a shrug. "That's why they split up so they could both do it at the same time."

       Methos let out a snort. "That's not the reason and you know it. Those two just don't want to share your puppies with little old me."

       "Well, you ARE too big, not to mention too old, to be suckling on me, Methos."

       "As Freud said, I'm still in the oral phase. I never had a childhood, remember? I was deprived of my youth. Besides, surely you would not deny your beloved this."

       "Methos, my tits hurt."

       "I swear I'll be gentle."

       "Sure you will." Duncan looked at the older man in suspicion. "Love, you are not baiting me into having sex with you, are you?"

       "Of course not!" Methos declared in outrage, though his fingers were crossed behind his back. "Now, why would I want to do that?"

       Duncan grimaced, feeling the two children abruptly release his nipples. They then merged into one little boy and curled up in a tight ball to sleep.

       From the bedroom, Joe emerged. Before the Scot could stop him, the Watcher took his nephew into his arms. Grinning, he said, "I'm taking my nephew off your hands so you two could have a little fun. Don't forget! I also want a little niece."

       As the Watcher disappeared with the child inside the bedroom, Duncan declared, "You are all conspiring against me!"

       "I want to make love to you. Your son wants to have a baby sister. Joe wants a niece. What's wrong about that?" Methos put in.

       The Highlander sighed. "If you want to us make love, we could do it the angelic way."

       "Certainly not!" the ancient retorted. Lifting his surprised lover into his arms, he said, "We'll do it the way we do it best. I have a wonderful suggestion. Let's do it up in the clouds. I've always wanted to make love to you in the sky."

       "We'll fall."

       "No, we won't. We have wings, remember?" Methos smiled warmly. "Besides, if we do fall, we'll fall together."

       Duncan pressed his lips to his lover's. "Damn it, love! Why are you so hard to resist?"

       As the Old Man carried him out the cabin, Methos said, "It must be my charms."

 

       Under the influence of the Divine, much to the chagrin of the Angel Raphael, John Milton recounted in his classic "Paradise Lost" a conversation the seraph had with Adam and Eve about angelic sex.

       This was how Milton wrote Raphael's discourse on the subject matter...

       _"Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st_  
_(said the seraph)...we enjoy_  
_In eminence, and obstacle find none_  
_Of membrane, joynt, or limb, exclusive barrs:_  
_Easier than Air with Air, if Spirits embrace,_  
_Total they mix, Union of Pure with Pure_  
_Desiring: nor restrain'd conveyance need_  
_As Flesh to mix with Flesh, or Soul with Soul."_

       In the heavens above the mountains, there was a brilliant star. However, if one were to point a telescope at that star, they would see that it was not a star at all. In fact, it was moving with the zipping, dizzying pace of fireflies during mating season.

       But a divine spirit would immediately know what it was -- two angels, joined heart to heart, soul to soul, trying out the angelic act for the first time in their long lives. Unfortunately, it was an endeavor doomed to failure as the two lovers abruptly parted.

       "Pheeeyewww!" Duncan complained in total grossness, rubbing his arms so that his goosebumps will go down. "You, Methos, are truly a dirty old man! You're the only person I know who could make something so holy be so gross. YUCCCKKKK!"

       Methos shrugged, though there was a mischievous grin on his face. "Just thought we'd spice up our love life a little bit."

       "But not THAT way! I never thought you'd concentrate all your energy down there! Ugghhhh! That was the most disgusting thing I ever experienced, like I had a bunch of worms crawling in there! You make my skin crawl!"

       "What's so bad about what I did? Don't tell me you don't know the technique? I'm damned sure you and Amanda did it every chance you got. You can't deny it, love. I saw it in your head. What I did was a simple angelic variation." Methos moved his eyebrows up and down. "If you like, I could do it for real."

       "Certainly not! You're NOT doing THAT to me!"

       "Mac, come on! Puleeeze?" The Old Man batted an eyelash at his lover. "It won't be my formidable weapon that will be doing the poking."

       "I don't care! I am not having ANY of your body parts poking around down there!"

       Saying this, Duncan swooped down, wanting to get back to the cabin posthaste. But then, he paused above a big, puffy cumulus when he realized that his lover was not following him.

       "Methos? Methos!" he called impatiently. "If you're still moping around up there, it won't work!"

       Suddenly, a voice spoke beneath him, "Who's says I'm moping up there, when I'm down here?"

       Before the Scot realized what was happening, his ankles were yanked under him, that he fell with a soft plop on the cloud, sending puff balls fluttering around him. To his shock, he saw that his legs were hooked over the ancient's shoulders, his upper body laid on Methos' lap.

       Seeing the grin on the Old Man's face, Duncan warned, "DON'T YOU DARE, METHOS! I swear I'll get a divorce!"

       Licking his lips hungrily, Methos parted the Highlander's thighs. He was surprised to see that Duncan's female orifice was still open, glistening in anticipation for the plundering that was to come.

       "Ready or not? Here I come!" cried the ancient as he pushed his head down between his lover's legs.

       Duncan burst into gales of laughter as Methos' tongue delved into his intimate opening, teasing the soft petals that were slowly blooming with every stroke. Even his own cock was hardening at this alien, yet so exciting, stimulation.

       "DAMN IT, YOU PERVERT!" he gasped between giggles, "STOP! THAT TICKLES!"

       Then, the Highlander cried out as the ancient found the sensitive nub. Twisting his head from side to side, Duncan abandoned himself to the sensations his lover was arousing in him. Just as he neared the peak, Methos pressed on his pleasure point that the Scot howled in ecstasy, his juices spilling from his member and from his blooming rose.

       Plunging his hand in the outer rim of Duncan's opening, Methos gently gathered the Highlander's copious juices. He slathered it generously around the tiny rosebud of Duncan's ass and on his own aching erection.

       Before the Scot could get a chance to breathe, his legs were pushed down to his chest and pried wide apart. Duncan screamed as Methos entered him in one smooth, devastating glide.

       The Highlander moaned in bliss, as his beloved pistoned his cock in and out of his ass. Strong hands kneaded his breasts, eager fingers pinching and pulling at his nipples. Their outstretched wings trembled with the effort of controlling their passions.

       Methos cried out as he came into the younger man's body. As their passions ebbed, he held on tightly to Duncan, feeling the Scot's milk spill onto his fingers. When he was finally spent, he carefully pulled out of the tight opening. Falling to the side, the ancient positioned himself at the Highlander's chest, lapping up the spilled nectar before closing his lips upon a turgid tit.

       "I love you, Methriel," Methos heard Duncan whisper.

       "And I love you too, Radhael. Always and forever," the Old Man answered back.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 

It was a bright Christmas morn, the sun shining down upon the glorious mountaintop, where the two Immortals stood with their son Inno between them and their good friend Joe. The child was carrying ever trusty Teddy in his arms.

       "Do you really have to go?" asked Joe worriedly.

       "Actually, no," Duncan replied. "But Inno wants to see Heaven so much. I couldn't deny him this."

       "It's all right, Uncle Joe," the little boy chimed in excitedly. "I really want to see my uncles Raphael, Gabriel and Michael. Of course, Grandpa Metatron. And my Biiiiig Papa."

       The Watcher didn't even have to guess who Inno's "Big Papa" was.

       "It's been a long time since I've been there," admitted Methos. "I'm quite surprised that they allowed me to visit."

       Duncan smiled reassuringly. "The Gates of Heaven are always open to every soul who seeks Him and loves Him."

       Silence fell between them. The two Immortals looked at their friend curiously. It was a long difficult trek up the mountain and it surprised them when the Watcher insisted that he come along to see them off.

       After a long moment, it was Joe himself who broke the silence. "I...I..." The Watcher lowered his gaze, not wanting his two friends to see the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm afraid I won't see you again."

       "Oh, Joe!" Duncan exclaimed, realizing at last what his friend's problem was. "We'll only be gone for a few days. We'll be back soon, I promise."

       "I...I wish...I wish I could go with you."

       Methos said solemnly, "It's not yet your time, Joe. You still have a long way to go yet."

       "But I don't know what I'll do in the future. What if I make a mistake? What if I don't end up...there? What if I never see you again?"

       Duncan peered at the Watcher, confirming what he already knew. With his angelic eyes, he could see the young man that Joe Dawson was -- handsome, brave, fiercely loyal. Overlapping it was the image of the archangel that Joe would become in Heaven.

       "Trust us, Joe. Nothing could ever tear us apart," the Highlander assured him. "Wherever we are, you shall be with us. Always and forever."

       As a relieved smile formed on the Watcher's face, a tear trickled down his cheek.

       "Hold the fort for us while we're gone, Joe," said Methos, patting his friend's back. "We'll be back before you know it."

       Saying this, Duncan, Methos and Inno unfurled their wings, their modern garb changing into angelic robes. Joe gasped in awe, seeing his best friends as the angels that they truly were. Waving to the Watcher, they soared into the sky and disappeared into the clouds.

       Joe was about to walk away. But then, a tiny figure swooped back down. Before the Watcher realized what was happening, Teddy embraced him tightly and bussed him on the cheek. Right before his eyes, the bear transformed into a handsome young angel. If he had seen the painting of Fillippino Lippi, the Watcher would have known that this angel was once Raphael's good friend, Tobias.

       "Don't worry, Joseph," Tobias reassured him. "I promise I'll bring them back safely to you."

       Hugging the angel who was once his childhood guardian, Joe sobbed, "Thank you, my dear angel. Thank you."

       Then, Tobias flapped his wings and went up into the heavens.

       When they were gone, Joe breathed in deeply, feeling like a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. Although the promise of an eternity in Heaven appealed to him, he was more relieved that he would be spending it with the two Immortals and their son who have changed his life and whom he loved with all his heart.

 

 

**TO BE CONTINUED IN _THE TEDDY BEAR TALES 5: ELYSIUM_**

 


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